Crazy on You, Too
by roxystyle011
Summary: Continuation of Crazy on You... Quinn is no longer Rachel Berry's therapist but she still has her hands full. Faberry.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the continuation of Crazy on You. The only reason that it's labeled as a new story is because I wanted to use the fun play on words title :-) **

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><p>"I seriously fucking hate you, Fabray."<p>

"Oh, what else is new?"

I'm pacing back and forth in the living room, blocking the television screen that Lauren was watching, I didn't mean to but if I was anywhere else, I'd be near _her_. Lauren showed up ten minutes ago and we've been yelling ever since.

It's been nearly two weeks since we've _gotten together,_ if you can call it that. And we've been down each other's throats; it's not going to work out much longer if we have to keep doing this. It's too hard.

"I don't understand why you guys are fighting," Lauren says from the small couch.

"Shut up, Lauren."

"Don't talk to her like that, Rachel!"

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"You can't just speak to people like you own them."

"Um, I _do _own her!"

Lauren stands with a huff and crosses her arms around her chest.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You are both going crazy on one another and no one owns me."

I hide my smirk.

She continues, "I don't even understand why you guys are even trying to be friends when you hate each other so much."

"This isn't any of your business."

"Rachel, stop snapping at her. This is between me and you, whatever anger you have is directed towards me, not her. Stop displacing."

"Stop psycho-babble bullshitting me, Fabray. You're a horrible therapist; I'm directing my anger towards _both _of you."

Lauren sighs and rubs her temples, "I'll be downstairs waiting in the town car. You're both giving me a headache. Quinn, make sure Rachel comes downstairs in five minutes."

"Don't leave me alone with her!"

"Stop acting like a child and you won't need a babysitter."

"Oh come off it, Fabray."

The main door slams shut behind a furious Lauren, she's had to listen to our shouting since she walked in. Luckily, she buzzed before she came up, or else we'd have no idea she was here. We were a little…preoccupied.

"Why don't you make me?" I whisper seductively, I know she's about to start salivating any second now, she loves when I whisper.

Her gaze turns predatory as the silence rings throughout the apartment, Lauren is long gone.

"She could have heard that," Rachel growls as she takes a step towards me.

Now that we're alone, it's a whole different ball game.

She takes a few more steps towards me and I realize that I've done the same.

Her lips crash into mine without another second to spare and my hands immediately go to the back of her thighs to lift her up. The forward motion she already had helped a great deal. She moans into my mouth as I pull her closer to me, the belt of my jeans connecting with her center.

She pulls away breathlessly, placing kisses all over my face, "God, it's getting harder and harder to pretend to hate you."

I seek out her mouth again as I blindly lead her towards the couch, _the_ couch that she insisted be moved into her apartment. Her back hits the cushion and I fall on top of her.

"I know, Rach. Trust me, I know," I breathe into her neck.

She pulls my face up so that she can see my eyes.

"You're not a horrible therapist," she says and I laugh.

I dip down to capture her lips between mine, ten minutes was far too long to be without contact from her, and pretending to argue worked up quite an appetite.

She whimpers as my hand slides under her shirt, resting on her rib cage. I kiss her harder when I feel her fingers on the skin of my lower back. She knows that it absolutely drives me wild when she runs her nails back and forth, teasing me.

"It's only been two weeks," I start but the suction she's creating on my neck halts my words momentarily, "how um, how much longer do we have to do this?"

"We said we'd take it slow."

She starts to kiss my chin, her tongue swirling aimlessly.

"This isn't slow," I slide my hand up further and she hisses as her back arches her body into me.

"You know what I meant."

Her nails dig into the back of my neck and I'm brought down into her. Her lips find mine again, my forehead heavily resting on her own as our noses fit together side by side. I feel her fingers trail from my lower back to my hip and finally coming to my front, teasing the jeans I'm wearing. She's seconds away from getting what she wants. But responsibility kicks in.

"We have to stop," I say, pulling away, only to be pulled back into her.

"No."

"Rach, you have therapy," I fight against her lips.

God, she's a hypnotic kisser.

"I'm not going."

I dig deep within me to find any ounce of strength that I can hold onto to stand my ground. My willpower tends to dwindle significantly when she's around me and it's nonexistent when she's moaning underneath me.

I rip my mouth away from her and back up into a straddle, wrestling with her hands as she tries to get a firm grip on me.

"Lauren is downstairs," I remind her, "You have like a minute to get down there."

She whines once she realizes my resilience.

"I don't wanna go," she pouts.

Don't give in, Fabray. You can do it, don't look directly in her eyes or you'll be a goner.

"Don't you want to stop and get some hot chocolate?"

It was her new favorite drink and she's been substituting it for coffee.

"No. I want you."

I bite back the low growl I feel erupting through my body at her words. She knows what they do to me.

She smirks as she sees my struggle. I just signed myself a death sentence. Her hips rise up to meet mine and my eyes roll to the back of my head. At least now I won't have to look her in the eyes.

"Rach, you realize you only have like a handful of sessions to go before the judge drops your charges right?" I manage to finally get out, it took a few times but she got the general gist.

She throws me another seductive smirk, somewhat of a trademark of hers, "I'd rather be a convict."

"I can't date a convict, Rach."

She sits up to the best of her ability and somehow lifts me off of her. Our positions change before I can blink as my back smashes into the opposite arm rest, Rachel's body flush against mine. She's kissing me with such a passion that I've never felt before. This girl is full of tricks, and somehow I don't even think she's making much of an effort. She pulls away and when I finally open my eyes, she's nowhere near the couch.

"That's a little presumptuous, Quinn. Who said _anything_ about us dating?"

God, she's evil.

She's grinning at me with a victorious smile. She wears it a lot.

"You're right," I swallow, "How could I assume we're dating when you tell me you hate me every other day?"

She rolls her eyes playfully as she checks her makeup in the small compact mirror she keeps in her bag. My breathing has slowed down a little now that we have a bit of space between us.

"It's good for you; I can't let you get a big head."

"Yes, because I see how well it turned out for you. Are you going to be able to fit it through the door on your way out?"

I give her a teasing smile and she just chuckles to herself, fluffing her hair up a bit. I get up off the couch, finally sure that my legs won't give out beneath me. It's happened before after being with Rachel.

I walk over to her as she stands near the island next to her kitchen.

"Now Quinn," she holds her pointer finger towards me, "You're displacing your feelings. It's not my fault that you have blue balls."

I raise an eyebrow at her but she ignores it as she puts on her coat. I can tell she's smiling and trying desperately to hide it. It's _so_ her fault and she knows it.

"You just better hope they aren't hotter than you Fabray, or else you'll be in serious trouble," she adds.

"Why's that?" I ask pulling the flaps of her coat closer to me; she has no choice but to follow.

"I have a thing for Therapists," she tells me lowly, "Blonde, sexy, certifiably insane, and moan inducing therapists."

"Certifiably insane?"

"That's the only other explanation as to why you want to be with me."

It's my turn to roll my eyes, "Oh, that's the _only_ explanation? I guess everything else I love about you doesn't really matter?"

She leans in and I meet her lips, making sure to keep it as innocent as possible, "You love me in spite of my flaws? I'd say you're certifiably insane," she teases.

"What flaws?" I give her a cheesy grin and she leans back in for one last kiss.

"See? That's why I keep you around."

"That's the _only _reason?" my jaw drops in feigned shock.

"I'll be happy to show you the other things I love about you later?"

"Only if I'm _not _naked."

I know exactly where her mind is at.

She shrugs, "Your loss."

I stick out my lower lip, I've learned she can't resist it. She laughs heartily and kisses the jutted out lip, "I'm kidding."

I laugh, "Have a good therapy session, go easy on them?"

I know from experience and I'm cringing just thinking about what this guy is about to endure. I hope he doesn't cry easily. She reaches the door and throws it open before stepping into the hallway. She's putting her game face on; the sunglasses are already covering her beautiful eyes.

I hate when she wears them sometimes.

"I'll probably be back in twenty minutes," she calls over her shoulder.

I know.

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry has always been a complicated human being.<p>

In High School, I couldn't stand her. Perfection came effortlessly to her, while I would strive every single day to obtain it. It wasn't until the middle of my junior year that I realized the reason I couldn't stand her. I was unintentionally enamored by her. Which is a roundabout way of saying that I was kind of in love with her, and it was against my will. It was like I was magnetically attracted to her while my mind desperately tried to convince me that I hated her. It made for quite a confusing argument when all I wanted to do was think about her before I drifted off to sleep. But I hated myself when I'd wake up realizing that I was disappointed that the dreams abruptly ended. It's not like Lima was the ideal place to profess my strange obsession for someone, especially when that _someone_ was a girl. And this is all in hindsight, I didn't even know at the time that the feelings within me went as deep as they did. Senior year, I began to recognize the feeling of jealousy, which escalated into want, and eventually turned into something too far in to deny any longer. I had a serious crush on Rachel Berry. Colossal.

It didn't matter anyway, we were all graduating and Rachel would be off doing bigger and better things. And I was bitter. She'd been accepted into _New York University, _as a part of their performing arts college. She had applied early decision and had been accepted. She knew where she was going by January of our senior year, not that she already didn't know since she was a child. It had been her dream and she was going to accomplish it.

Meanwhile, I had just sent my college applications out to state schools and had no idea what I wanted out of life. Having a child when you're sixteen kind of puts a new perspective on things.

It was surprisingly easy to convince everyone, including Rachel, that I thought nothing of her. In reality, it crushed me. Not only that it was _that_ easy, but because she didn't deserve any of the harsh treatment I threw at her. She never did anything wrong. She was the target because I'd rather mask my own feelings than let her ever get too close to figure them out. I was a therapist's dream patient; ironically enough.

But she was beautiful, inside and out. She could take my breath away and I wouldn't even need to be in a conversation with her. That's what killed me. That this girl had so much power over me and had no idea. I suppose that it was entirely my fault. In fact, I'm positive that it was my fault. I'd waited way too long to make nice.

The yearbook.

It was my last hope, and I needed to use it.

I'd gotten the idea the night before while I was looking through all of my old yearbooks, a sense of nostalgia washing over me as I prepared to graduate in a few short days. In the back of my freshman yearbook, I found a folded up piece of paper with my name on it. It was sort of an anonymous confession from someone, they thought I was beautiful. They didn't have the courage to leave their name, and who knows who it actually was or what would have come from it but I wasn't going to make that same mistake. Rachel was going to know that I regretted every single thing I'd ever done to her. She was going to know what I thought about her. She was going to know that I was in love with her.

Seeing her reaction after finding out that it was me that took her yearbook from her haunted me for weeks, and I almost regretted writing her the letter in the first place. But if I thought that was bad, I had another thing coming. Nothing will ever erase the sight of the tears that cascaded down her face after I told her that I didn't want her to make it in New York. It was dumb. I knew she was leaving the next morning and I was desperate to break her down so she'd second guess herself and maybe not go. My logic was embarrassing.

I spent the rest of that summer sulking and reading her _Facebook_ statuses and updates. She was a rock star and moved on with her life. I had to do the same.

My roommate Kate was constantly out with friends. She'd invite me but I'd normally pass on the opportunities, either because I wasn't in the mood, or because I didn't feel like drinking. She was relentless and eventually succeeded in taking me out to a party with upperclassman. I got drunk. The next thing I know, we're making out on her bed in our dorm room. I felt dirty, and I felt like I was cheating. As much as I told myself that I wasn't still hung up on Rachel Berry, I knew I was. It didn't feel right but it helped me forget the pain in my chest every time I'd see her online and know that I had no right to talk to her. Or when I'd hear a song that she'd sung in glee club. And especially when I'd see someone wearing argyle. Strangely, a lot of people wore argyle.

Kate was a temporary fix but it wasn't anything serious. In fact, the entire first semester, we strictly hooked up when we were drunk. She'd never compare to Rachel, she would never come close. It wasn't until I went home for Christmas break and overheard Rachel gush to Kurt all about her life at school. I was within touching distance of her and I still couldn't act. I would never be good enough for Rachel and I knew I had to change. I had to become something she might be proud of, if I ever wanted a shot at being her friend.

I declared my major at the end of my freshman year and it was a start. I studied my ass off and eventually graduated early. I occasionally checked up on Rachel, she was making a name for herself like I always knew she would.

It wasn't even a question about where I wanted to complete my graduate and doctorate work.

Rachel Berry was impressionable. In her interviews on TV, her pictures on the cover of magazines, even her candid photos in the tabloids. They got your attention. She went from America's sweetheart to an immoral role model in the blink of an eye. She had been right, people could make and break you without batting an eyelash. Her antics weren't _her_, not the real her anyway. But she still managed to intrigue me. I'm not even sure that there was a hesitation to call the courthouse and propose my office to handle Rachel's case. It was a shot in hell that I couldn't pass up. I had the chance to maybe do something.

I knew the road would be rocky, I knew that she would be resistant and it would take some time for her to open up. I knew that she just needed someone to talk to, someone to not judge her or assume the worst in her.

I never anticipated needing her as much as I do now.

She has no idea how much more in love with her I get every minute I'm with her. I love her fire and her passion, she speaks her mind and she isn't afraid to break a few hearts along the way, she's no bullshit but incredibly charming when she wants to be. And I don't even have to mention that she's breathtakingly beautiful. Like, stunning.

She also doesn't mind letting me know how incredibly pathetic it is that I've been hung up on someone since high school. I don't think she's met herself, because who _wouldn't_ be hung up on Rachel Berry for that long?

I hear keys jingle in the lock of the door and I sit up on the couch, I glance at the clock on the cable box. At least she managed to make an attempt.

"Back so soon?" I ask, sending her an amused smirk.

She tries to hide her smile as she shimmies out of her coat.

"I just really missed you," she answers softly, far too vulnerable for her.

I missed her too. So much.

"You okay?"

I worry about her more than I should. She's twenty seven and capable of taking care of herself but it's something that I'll never be able to help. Or apologize for.

She nods and I can tell she's seconds from crying.

She drops onto the couch and her arms are around me, I rub small circles across her back, something that I know soothes her.

"What's the matter?" I ask after I hear her sniffle.

I definitely know something is wrong.

"I told you, I missed you," she mumbles.

I smile to myself, I've somewhat craved those words for years.

"What happened?"

"He was so mean and judging," her voice cracks next to my ear.

She sounds innocent, _so _innocent in fact that I'm wondering if he just started attacking her when she walked into the office. She sounds too broken to have put up a good fight, the kind of fight she loved to give me.

"And his couch hurt my back," she adds.

That sounds more like her.

I laugh into the top of her head and try to pull her back a little, "What did he do?" I ask, swiping the pad of my thumb across her cheekbone, she leans into me some more.

"He asked _way _too many questions."

I smile at her and begin to run my fingers through her hair, "Sweetheart, that's what therapists normally do."

She sighs out, "He asked me what happened to my last therapist."

My body involuntarily tenses and she can tell. The reason we decided to take it _slow_ was for that reason. It's a tad frowned upon in my profession to see patients. And I'm completely understating it 200%.

"What did you say?"

Her smirk shows, she's so proud of herself, "I told him to go fuck himself."

"Rach," I begin to reprimand, "please don't tell me that you answered all of his questions like that," I level her with a look.

"Fine. I won't tell you that was how I answered all of his questions."

My head drops down and I sigh, she wasn't going to make it easy for anyone she comes across.

"Are you mad at me?" she asks, the softness of her voice catching me off guard once again.

I look up, "Of course not."

I lean forward and place a kiss on her lips to further show that I could never be mad at her.

In truth, I think it's hysterical. I only wish I could have seen it. There's something incredibly sexy about Rachel's _fuck_ _everyone_ attitude.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here when I got back," she says, her voice somewhat mimicking her feelings about coming back and actually _not _finding me here.

I lean back until I'm resting against the armrest, I pull her with me and she settles into my body between my legs. She drops the back of her head against my chest as we lay on the couch.

"I knew you'd be back pretty soon."

"Am I _that_ predictable?"

"To me, you are."

Her face lights up and she nuzzles closer to me, sighing out when I begin to draw random patterns on her hip.

"What have you been doing while I was gone?"

I laugh into the back of her neck, "Thinking about you."

She whips her head around and laughs, "You're so full of shit."

Ah, there's my girl.

"I actually was, about high school and just, yeah..." I sigh out, "All that."

"Like what?" she asks a little more delicately.

She's obviously intrigued. And I'm pretty sure she's never passed up on an opportunity to hear someone say nice things about her.

She maneuvers herself so that she's facing me now.

"Like how obsessed you were with me in high school? And how you had to go through your _whole_ life struggling with the fact that you were so overwhelmed by how hot I was that you were stunned into silence every time you saw me in the hallways? Was it hard to hear me sing and not show your tears, I imagine that my beautiful voice was something like a teasing lullaby to you, how did you not break down in hysterics every day?"

She raises an eyebrow, waiting for my response.

"Don't ever let someone tell you that you're conceited, Rach."

"I don't," she shrugs, she's entirely serious and it only spurs on a wider smile.

"Let me guess, you tell them to go fuck themselves?"

"How'd you know?" she tilts her head, her tongue trapped between her white teeth. Her taunting smile is childish and playful, she has no idea what she does to me.

"Lucky guess," I muse.

My fingers find their way under her shirt in order to continue my drawings on her lower back. I'm drawing a house, sometimes I wonder if she is picturing the same image that I have in my mind.

"So you were saying? Something about your schoolgirl fantasies of taking me up against the piano after my rendition of one of the mash-ups? I didn't peg you to have a leather fetish, Quinn Fabray."

How she can say things like that with a straight face will continue to puzzle me.

Her fingers are playing with the cross around my neck; she's completely concentrated on it and doesn't realize the fuse she's lit inside my body.

"Actually, it was after you sang with that delusional substitute," I humor her.

She looks up and immediately knows that I'm making fun of her. Not the performance, but the general idea that she thinks I'll _actually_ admit that she was indeed dead on in her first guess.

"When did you decide that you actually liked me?"

Her question catches me off guard.

"College," I answer quickly.

It's not _technically _a lie.

"Bullshit."

Okay, maybe it is.

I laugh, "You have _no_ proof, Darling."

Her eyes narrow and she's determined to provide me with some kind of proof. Not that I haven't already provided her with enough evidence to try me in the Supreme Court.

"I know that you helped Finn with my Christmas present senior year."

"He told you?"

He _will_ be punched in the face if I ever see him again. I've done it twice before, third time's a charm.

"No," she smirks.

I roll my eyes, "That wasn't fair."

"Quinn, you wrote _I'm in love with you_ in my yearbook. You're really going to tell me that you decided to _actually_ like me in college? Please."

I open my mouth a few times but no words come out. She's completely got me cornered.

"And what about all of your pillow talk confessions? Extra Credit assignments and secretly serenading me with Bette Midler songs? You were one _seriously _repressed high school student if you're going to tell me that those things didn't mean anything."

"Okay, I think you've made your point," she smiles triumphantly, "I suppose I started to notice you differently when I was pregnant, but I didn't realize what it was until the beginning of senior year," I admit.

Her eyes light up, "When?"

That was a very good question. When did I actually realize that I _like liked_ Rachel Berry. When I realized all of my feelings from the previous years was actually love.

"You were sitting in the choir room and we were waiting for Mr. Schuester to come in."

She rolls her eyes, "That was every day."

"You were arguing with Kurt and Mercedes about something."

I honestly couldn't remember what they were arguing about, they tended to argue a lot. Especially after Kurt came back to McKinley for senior year, he tended to try and enforce some of the Warblers traditions onto us. I wasn't paying attention to the topic that they chose to argue over that day, it could have been about solos or song selections; it really didn't matter to me.

"And you stormed out."

She has a weird smile on her face, "That was every day, too."

She ducks her head when she realizes how big of a diva she's always been. I laugh and cease my drawing on her back; I press the pads of my fingertips into her and bring her closer. I nudge her chin up with my forehead and she has no choice but to look at me.

"Well _that_ particular day, I watched you go and I realized that the only thing I wanted to do was run after you."

I feel her intake of breath under my fingers before I hear it audibly happen.

"And you did," she whispers, slightly bewildered.

Her eyes run across face, I feel them all over me.

My eyes soften and I nod slowly, "I did."

She looks down and her fingers are back on my cross. I watch her. I know she's back in time right now, thinking about everything that's ever happened between us. There are thousands of things that I did for her that she has _no_ idea even occurred.

This time I wait for her brown orbs to find their way back to mine before I continue. I could sit and observe her for hours and be entirely content with my life. Her long eyelashes are hiding her eyes like a blanket on a winter night.

My features soften when she gazes back up at me, her eyes are glossy, she's fighting to keep her tears at bay and her pulsing neck is working double-time. She's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

She remembers that day as vividly as I do.

"You found me in the auditorium."

I don't even think I gave it a second thought as to where I would find her.

My smile is soft, as I nod silently urging her to continue.

"And we just sat," she blinks a few times and some wetness slides down her cheek, I lean forward a few inches and kiss the small tears that I know she's self conscious about, "For an hour."

I'm completely enthralled with her.

"For an hour," I repeat lowly.

"We didn't talk."

I shake my head back and forth.

I knew that if I opened my mouth, something I wasn't ready for her to hear would come out. That I would probably come out. I was still reeling with the shattering realization that I was pretty much in love with her, too caught up in my own thoughts to provide her with anything inspiring or thoughtful to say.

I sat in the chair directly next to her, silently.

She never made a move to ask me why I was there, she never made a move to get up and leave. We missed the entire glee practice and neither of us found ourselves caring.

Rachel was the first one to stand, peering over me with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Thanks Quinn," she offered me.

I think she knew what I was doing; I was offering her my support. I was letting her know that she wasn't being overdramatic like everyone else tended to say. She was herself and that was okay.

I could only nod as I once again watched her walk away from me, I still found myself wanting to run after her.

"And that's when you were sure?" she asks delicately and it breaks me out of my reverie.

I smile, "That's when I knew for sure."

She leans in and I smile when I once again realize her lips fit perfectly with mine, the tentative and slow kiss doing the talking for us.

She has a smirk on her face when she pulls back.

"And the video camera?"

I exhale exaggeratedly and throw my head back, she giggles as she manages to pull herself up onto my body, I struggle against her as she tries to get me to look at her.

"Stop squirming!" she releases through her laugh.

I stop moving and look up at her, somehow she's covering my body as I'm lying on my back. She's quite good at getting me to do what she wants me to do.

"Are you just going to keep asking me about things that happened in high school now and hope I'll tell you the other side of the story?"

She shrugs, "Probably."

I sigh.

"You can't expect me to not further inquire about all the things you secretly did for me."

"You're right, why would I ever expect that from you?" I tease.

She arches an eyebrow and I feel her hands move lower until they're resting on the sides of my stomach, just under my shirt. She's about to tickle me.

"Okay, okay," I surrender quickly, she's a relentless tickler.

She's rather pleased with herself. Whatever alone time we've had in the past two weeks has been spent learning more about each other, she has enough of my weaknesses memorized to extract whatever she wants out of me.

"First of all, I _tried_ to help Finn shop for you. My patience wore thin within the first 10 minutes and I wanted to throw him down the escalator a few times."

She laughs heartily at this, she hasn't removed her fingers from under my shirt and it's becoming increasingly difficult to focus on the memory. It's hard enough remembering things from eight years ago, Rachel Berry's hands are not helping the cause.

"And then you showed up and accused him of cheating on you."

She laughs harder. It was slightly terrifying how turned on I was when she was yelling at her boyfriend, but I also cut my lip from biting down in order not to break out into laughter. As _if_ I would ever.

"So you didn't make him buy the camera?" she asks.

It seems like she's had her heart set on this little fact for quite some time. It's like I just told an eight year old that there was no tooth-fairy. It's as if her entire existence is based on this being true.

"No," I reply, "I didn't make him buy the camera."

Her face falls even more and I find myself once again biting my lip to the verge of drawing blood. She looks utterly crushed and I know I shouldn't find it funny but she really has _no_ idea.

"I bought it before he came to me."

She picks her head up, she wants to let the smile show through but she's fighting it off, "What are you talking about?"

"I bought it a few days before he asked me to help him; you were talking about it in glee and I thought it was a good idea."

"You're lying."

I shake my head, her increasingly wide eyes are making me blush, "You would've never found out it was from me, I was going to just drop it off on your doorstep from an anonymous admirer. I'm sure you would have assumed it was Jacob."

"I can't believe you."

I shrug, "Finn was seriously desperate, I kind of felt bad for him."

"What did he want to get me?"

"Hotdog flavored edible underwear."

She deadpans and her straight face is actually making me laugh harder. It's exactly how I looked when Finn told me.

"That's not funny; I literally would have murdered him."

I'm still laughing, because it's _still_ funny, "I know, which is why I gave him the camera. I knew it was something you wanted."

"I don't understand you, why would you make Finn look like the perfect boyfriend?"

"I knew you wanted him to be that."

"I suppose next you're going to tell me that you were the one telling Finn what to say when we went to dinner?" she chuckles.

I avoid her eyes at all costs. My throat feels like it's in my chest, like I'd just been caught sneaking out of the house in middle school.

"Don't be ridiculous."

Of course my voice _has _to crack because it wasn't already obvious that I had something to do with it.

"Quinn Fabray!"

"It wasn't a big deal, I just helped him out a bit."

"Define."

"He wanted to take you to the _Waffle House_ because he had a buy one get one free coupon," I whine, she doesn't understand how horrendous her boyfriend _actually _was.

She shudders above me.

I continue, "I just gave him a few pointers on what to say."

"That's all?"

I bite my lip and nod to the best of my ability.

She narrows her eyes.

"You're lying; tell me everything before I call him."

I groan, "There was a microphone in the flower vase on the table, I was sitting out of eyesight with Lauren Zizes, she was the one that helped us with all the technology stuff."

It took a week for me to make the homemade fried _Oreos_ to her liking. Her list of demands was truly absurd.

She leans back a bit, "So you were spying on me?"

Yes, I should have seen this coming.

"Technically, yeah I guess if you want to put it that way. I was just helping Finn out with conversation techniques."

He was truly horrible at keeping an appropriate conversation. He infuriated me when we were dating and I wasn't even _that_ into him, I couldn't even imagine how annoying it was for someone like Rachel.

"You were the one that said all those things?"

I blush and look down. I don't remember the conversation. It was one of those situations where you're so caught up in the moment that you don't even realize some of the things you're saying. All I remember is some of the strange looks that Lauren was shooting me between bites of her Fettuccine Alfredo.

She leans back further and further. This was not how I imagined this to go, not that I ever thought she'd find out.

"You were the one that told Finn to say that my voice made him lose track of time, that when I looked at him he felt weightless and grounded all at once," she runs a hand through her hair, "That he's never been more in love with someone in his entire life?"

God, how incredibly corny am I?

"I guess," I reply, I'm playing with my hands because I just can't look at her right now.

She backs away completely, sitting up at the opposite end of the couch. I sit up as well.

"How could you do that?"

There's pain behind her voice, she feels betrayed and I'm the cause of it. I feel sick to my stomach.

"I wasn't thinking," I sound as pathetic as I feel.

"Did you even mean them?"

"Are you serious?"

She just stares at me, waiting for my answer.

"Of course I did."

"I feel like the biggest fool," she throws her arms up in the air as she gets off the couch.

"Because he didn't actually say those things to you?"

As much as I think that I know her, I could never know what she's actually thinking.

"Because the person I was with for two years was entirely the wrong person, that's why! You made Finn seem invincible; you knew exactly what to have him say to me. I-I slept with him that night," she chokes out.

Her words hit my heart harder than a freight train would a brick wall; the wind is completely knocked out of me.

"Was there even anything in it for you?"

I refused his offer to pay me, I definitely refused his offer to do my homework for a month, and I certainly refused his offer to set me up with someone on the football team.

"No," I whisper, "You deserved a nice night with someone you loved, I just thought it would make you happy."

"You could have made me happy," she whispers.

"I had a lot of stuff to figure out back then. I would have just hurt you."

She releases a breath; I suppose she's still processing all of it. It was a lot to take in.

"Maybe," she answers, a small smile peeking out through the corner of her lips.

"Are you upset with me?" I ask tentatively, my self esteem dwindles significantly when she's around.

She shakes her head no, "It's kind of cute," she takes a few steps towards me, "You're lucky you make me happy now."

"Is that fact?"

She reaches up, the heels of her feet in the air and places a kiss on my lips, "That's a fact."

I wrap my arms around the small of her back, pulling her into me and lifting her up so that she's straddling my waist. I walk her over to the couch and fall on top of her, she giggles into my cheek.

"I'm glad you finally decided to let me have this couch."

"Yes well, I didn't have much of a choice when you hired a moving company to take it out of my office."

I feel her tiny stomach jiggle slightly as her laugh carries through her body; she's completely thrilled with herself.

"It's like _our_ couch, Quinn."

"I know, Rach."

There's a loud buzz that rings throughout the apartment. Rachel groans below me.

"Of fucking course."

I lean back a little so she can get up, she places a kiss on the corner of my lips before she trots over to the call box.

"What?"

"_What?_" Lauren's voice mimics, "I'm coming up, you have some explaining to do."

"Whatever," Rachel says back into the box.

She turns to look at me with a pout on her face. Our cuddle time was cut short once again.

"Somewhere along the line someone put the thought in her head that I had to answer to her," she mumbles.

I smile wide from the couch, "She's just doing her job, I should be reprimanding you as well for blowing off _another_ therapist."

"The guy was a douchebag," she offers easily, it's not even debatable for her. "So," she drawls out, "What do you wanna fight about this time?" she has a twinkle to her eye and I think she somewhat enjoys it.

I wonder if it has anything to do with the fake _makeup_ sex we get to have afterwards.

"You're mad at me because I took the therapist's side."

We noticed that the more civil we are to each other, the longer Lauren will stay around. So we've just started to be mid-fight when she enters the apartment and it doesn't take nearly as long to get rid of her.

She inhales deeply and when she resurfaces there's a scary fire to her eyes and a look of pure determination. I'm terrified.

I arch my eyebrow and set my jaw firmly in place. I'm winning this 'argument'.

"You're all the same!" She shouts at me.

It takes me a second to regain my glare because she's downright adorable when she's angry.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You're all confident and suave with your wordy questions and deeper meanings. It's not charming; it's an inconvenience to my life at the very least."

The door opens mid sentence and I can see the irritation on Lauren's face, she wouldn't dare let her boss see it and when Rachel turns to look at her the face has disappeared entirely.

"Rachel, the guy was merely asking you generic questions." I counter, softly.

I always get points when I'm the more rational of the two of us.

"All he wanted to do was get in my pants, just like everyone else in this world," she fires back.

It's becoming harder and harder to keep up this charade.

"You're out of your mind," I sigh.

"That's because you drive me crazy!"

We always try to speak in double entendres.

Lauren huffs, "Goodbye," she states before turning around and slipping out of the door that's barely just closed.

"If I drive you so crazy, why haven't you done anything about it yet?"

She holds up her finger and leans towards the door, listening to make sure she's actually gone.

"I think that was a new record," she grins as she turns back around to look at me.

I move to get off the couch and gesture for her to come towards me. She doesn't hesitate and allows me to encircle my arms around her as her head rests on my chest.

"I think you're right."

"I didn't even have to tell you that I hated you this time."

I run my hands up and down her back, she feels cold.

"I wonder how long it's going to take for her to catch on."

She chuckles, "She's smarter than she looks. She knows _everything_. It's scary."

I place a kiss on the top of her head. We're still standing in the middle of the living room, slightly swaying as we keep our balance.

"Hey, thank you for not storming out on me earlier," I tell her.

She looks up and I see the realization dawn across her face, "I didn't even realize that was an option," she jokes, "The thought never even crossed my mind."

I nibble at her lower lip as her fingernails lazily drag up and down my neck.

"I think I broke you," I whisper against her lips.

"I think you fixed me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi frens! Overwhelmed. You guys are so awesome. I know the first chapter was Quinn's pov but we're back to Rachel's...Quinn will have the occasional chapter or two when it calls for it. Thanks for reading, hope you all had great weekends! :)  
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><p>This place sucks.<p>

I hate it here and I want to leave right now, but I promised Quinn that I would at least_ try_.

Currently I'm _trying_ to think of ways to get out of here without alerting the therapist that I've even left. It's not like I'm even talking, this guy has been going on for ten minutes about his credentials. Like I even care that he went to Princeton.

I wonder what Quinn is doing right now.

I haven't seen her at all today, she's adamant on me taking this therapy thing seriously. It's kind of endearing. I find it's still taking some time to get used to the fact that she actually cares about me, that she's not the person I thought she was. She's way better.

Sometimes I wonder if I've slipped and hit my head, landing me in this alternate reality where I'm entirely smitten with Miss Fabray. Maybe she drugged me. It would make sense; no one could be _that_ perfect and still be single.

Unless you're Quinn and you've been hung up on the same person for years.

I don't let her forget it either.

"Would you like to hear why I decided to become a therapist?"

I flash my perfectly white teeth as I give him the fakest grin I can manage, "Sure!"

He goes off on some tangent and I'm free to continue my thoughts, which I've been finding are always on Quinn.

It's not that I'm obsessed with her; it's that I'm _overly_ obsessed with her. She's kind of like my crack. I'm utterly addicted to every aspect of her. Her meaningful words, her lingering touches, her stunning looks, her contagious laugh, her bright eyes, her brilliant smile, her ongoing legs, her soothing voice… just everything.

She kisses me as if she's never tasted something so good, she holds me as if I'm about to disappear for a year, and she watches me like she's never seen a human being before in her life. There's just no way to explain it, everything she does is everything to me.

I don't enjoy sneaking around with her but we both need to figure out what's going on between us before we make any rash decisions.

"Can I leave yet?"

I'm growing impatient, I _need_ to see her.

"Y-you still have another half hour."

I study him. He's an old-fashioned man, probably has tons of grandchildren, and I'm probably the first person that's ever intimidated him to the point of stuttering. He tugs on his collar and pulls the pocket watch out of the inside of his brown jacket before glancing back at me. He pats his forehead with the white handkerchief that came from the front of his suit before tucking it back where it belongs.

I've lasted longer than I thought I would and I consider it a small victory. I've put in my day's work and I'm ready to get the hell out of this office. It smells like his lunch and his lunch was definitely tuna. This doctor should be counting his blessings that he made it thirty minutes without one insult.

"I have more important things to do," I tell him.

I'm already up off his couch, which might as well be a leather bed. My sunglasses are on and I didn't even bother taking off my jacket this time. He shakes my hand and tells me that he'll see me on Wednesday. Doubtful.

Lauren gets smarter as the days go on and the town car is still parked outside of this man's building.

"Hiya Chuck," I greet the driver.

He nods his hello and opens the door for me. I've recently learned that he has a toddler and another baby on the way. He's actually really nice and he's always up to date on politics, I've learned it's his forte.

"New record," he chimes as he puts the car in drive.

I grin and look out the window, "How long would it take you to get your doctorate in Psychology, do you wanna be my therapist?"

I wouldn't mind laying in the backseat while he drives me around the City, asking me whatever questions his little heart desires.

He chuckles and shakes his head. I guess he thought I was joking.

"Where are we going?" he asks as we roll to a stop at the light.

I glance at my watch, "Take me to that sandwich place on 6th."

He smiles in the rearview mirror and continues to drive.

Quinn refuses to admit it but I know she's under a lot of stress, and I don't really blame her. She's having a bit of an identity crisis and as many times as she's had to try and convince me it isn't my fault, I know it is. She had romantic feelings for a patient under her care, I was _said _patient, and I'm the reason that she's reevaluating her entire life. I've yet to find Jocelyn Rogers, the sleezy receptionist that broke the news of our affair to the tabloids, but my people are out there and they _will_ find her. No one screws Rachel Berry and then screws her figuratively. That's just rude and inconsiderate of her. Not to mention that she's screwed with Quinn's life, I just simply cannot have that happening under my watch.

"Hi Rachel!"

I smile at the cashier as I take my sunglasses off, "How are you, Jessica?"

Jessica nearly had a panic attack when I walked into this deli almost a month ago. Quinn had mentioned that it was her favorite place to eat one weekend but it was too far away for her to leave her office everyday in order to get it. I liked to surprise her with a random sandwich every once and a while, I've learned that she'll just about eat anything with meat and cheese on it.

"I'm great!" she's always so chipper when she sees me and it makes me feel good about myself.

Jessica is a sophomore at _NYU_ and works at the deli part time during the days before her afternoon classes. She waitresses at night and already has an internship lined up for summer credit. She's a hard worker and reminds me of myself when I attended the college. I haven't told her yet but I consider her my little prodigy. I rarely take an invested interest in someone's life but her smile is contagious and she's also made it out of a small town of losers.

It's amazing what you can learn about someone when you actually converse with them. I suppose it could also be a testament to how much I'm actually in here, too. Regardless, she's good people.

When Quinn texted me earlier in the morning I could tell that something wasn't right with her. I've always been thankful for my sixth sense and it seems that my _Quinn sense_ is much stronger than I know what to do with. I can tell when she's not her usual self and I've been thinking of ways to rectify the situation since our earlier conversation. I know that a sandwich from this place is a step in the right direction.

I tell Jessica the order and we chat idly for a bit while she pounds the extra meat on for Quinn. Today I learn that Jessica lives with her boyfriend, he's an aspiring singer.

I throw Charles the sandwich that I ordered him and he protests until I playfully put up the divider that separates the front seat from the back seat. I hear him say thank you before it slides fully shut.

He knows where we are off to next.

I throw Erin the receptionist the bag of gummy worms as I pass by, she seemed like a gummy worm type of person.

"Hello Darling."

I kick the door shut with my foot and it closes softly, I've managed to perfect the right amount of force to use in order for it to fully close without slamming. She's staring out of her 19th floor window with one hand wrapped around her chest as the other one plays with the cross around her neck. I find her in this position quite a lot. She tends to daze off, deep in her thoughts while she shuts out the world.

There's such beauty in the way she's so serene and calm all of the time, it automatically makes me want to be a better person.

She laughs to herself when she turns to greet me, "You shouldn't be here," she reminds me, "But I'm glad you are."

I smile as I approach her; I lean up and give her a small kiss on her cheek. She can be so shy sometimes.

"I thought you'd be hungry," I hold up the white bag as if it resembles a peace offering.

She has a warm smile and her eyes rake over my face, I feel like I'm under a spotlight when she looks at me. I'm only aware of the blazing heat her hazel orbs offer me. She finally takes the bag from me and peers inside.

"It smells like you left your session early."

I give her a teeth baring smile and she rolls her eyes before gesturing towards the light tan couch. I plop down and bounce a few times, testing it out. I still don't know how I feel about it. It needs to be broken in.

"I don't like this couch, we should—"

"No. Don't even finish your sentence."

I jut out my lower lip and she just laughs as she sits next to me. She dumps out the contents of the bag and her eyes double in size at all the fun goodies I brought us. It's rather fun picking out teeth rotting types of candy and snacks. Quinn has sort of a sweet tooth, for candy and for disgustingly mushy sentiments.

"Why are you so good to me?" she asks as she reads the labels on the wrapped sandwiches before handing me mine.

She knows that I would _never_ eat a sandwich with three different kinds of meat.

"I kind of like you."

She moans as she takes a bite of her sandwich and I force myself to think of the hotdog vendor that always whistles at me when I walk by. I need a distraction. I can't possibly be turned on by her reactions to food that she thinks taste good.

"I know what you're doing," she says after she takes a large gulp of her diet coke, "You're trying to butter me up so I won't yell at you for leaving yet another therapy session."

Actually I just did it because I wanted to. But now that I think about it, buttering her up is a nice added bonus.

"You don't yell," I remind her.

She laughs and takes another bite, "I suppose you're right."

Lauren's been texting me all morning, she's on one of my missions and is keeping me updated.

"I mean, you _do _shout sometimes," I reply as I throw my phone into my oversized purse of unnecessary crap. I mean honestly, there is no reason to have 5 different flavors of gum. I just know that if I try to downsize my gum inventory that I'm going to want the flavor I get rid of. I digress.

I try to give Quinn my undivided attention at all times, even when she's housing deli meat into her mouth like it's about to become obsolete.

She gives me a puzzled look but her eyes are back on her sandwich. She seriously must have been starving. I smirk to myself.

"Words like _harder, _or _oh God_, and sometimes even _right there_," I drawl it out and I find that I actually do an amazing impression of her, "I enjoy when you scream my name as you come."

She coughs furiously and holds her chest as she reaches for her drink. I laugh to myself as I delicately open the white wrapping around my sandwich. It always takes me a good minute to decide what half I want to eat first. Do I want the bigger half now because I'm hungry? Or do I want the smaller half so that I can have the bigger half later? Ugh, I hate decisions like this. It can totally affect the rest of my day. It took me five minutes to even decide what kind of drink I wanted to wash down the Panini. Did I want something with carbonation or did I want something smooth like iced tea? These issues seriously trouble me sometimes.

Quinn's still coughing but she'll be fine in a few minutes. I could have done much worse to her. Some of the things she says in bed? Hot damn, I'm getting heated just thinking about them. It's her own fault really, she should know by now that I have no shame. Little ol' Rachel Berry with no filter from high school grew up.

"Why do you have to do that?" she asks, her face bright red from choking—or embarrassment—and her eyes watery. She coughs a few more times.

I shrug, why _wouldn't_ I? She should've seen that coming.

"I should have seen that coming."

We're such a married couple and it makes me feel giddy. I can't believe that I've gone so long without her in my life this way.

Not only does she voice my inner thoughts most of the time but she continues to set me up for more jokes. She really does love me.

I time it just right; she takes another swig from her soda.

"You should see _you_ coming."

She coughs again and this time pounds her chest with her fist.

"Stop that!"

I feel bad for her so I bring my hand to run circles around her upper back as she coughs away the soda that went down the wrong pipe.

"But you're so pretty when you're flustered," I smile and tap her nose with my other hand.

"We need to find you another therapist," she changes the subject.

"Can't we just break up and you can be my therapist again?"

She tenses but recovers quickly, "I didn't even know we were _dating_ to begin with."

She's teasing me now because I tend to give her a similar response when she brings up the _D_ word. I mean, we're exclusive and I suppose we're officially dating each other and there's really no reason why we couldn't consider each other our significant others but it's kind of fun to tease.

I do believe that was Quinn's motto once upon a time. She sure has graduated from that.

I think I'm waiting for a grand romantic gesture from her end and it's only because she seems like the kind of person that would make it extravagant and tear inducing. Then again, she's kind of been doing it since high school I just haven't been made aware of it until recently.

Truthfully, it's the one thing we haven't talked about since our hot and heavy sexual rendezvous. I think we just kind of assumed without really stating it out loud.

"You're right. One would have to take the other on a date for that to be considered true."

Her jaw drops open and I lean back into the corner of the couch, my fingers dancing across the top of the cushion.

Now I'm just messing with her. I know that she's been dying to take me on a date. An actual first date because it's like the only thing she's wanted to do for a month.

"You know I want to."

"Soon we can."

It's actually one of the other reasons that I wanted to see her, I have wonderful news.

"Look, I know that you're stressed out over everything that I caused."

She levels me with a warning glare and I hold my hands up in surrender this time because we've spent countless hours going back and forth on it.

"A press release is being issued soon."

"What kind of press release?"

She looks nervous. Have I _ever_ given her a reason to be nervous?

"Well the people on my staff work extremely hard to protect my image and to protect the images of the people I interact with on a daily basis, mainly you."

"You can't just sweep things under the carpet, Rach."

"I'm a celebrity. I get other people to sweep for me."

She's trying not to smile because she knows that if she smiles then I immediately take it as her approval. Little does she know, I consider her trying not to smile as approval, too. She's basically always approving of my ideas and it's a win-win situation for me.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Basically someone else came forward and is claiming to have actually been my therapist during the time of our alleged secret affair," I whisper the last part for dramatic effect.

She's trying not to smile again.

"Willingly or forcefully?"

I choose not to answer.

"How does that even work, my signatures were on all of the documents."

"Well you were _supposed _to be my therapist but once the conflict of interest was discovered I sought out someone else. We reconnected after learning we were both in New York and that's why we were seen out and about."

"That's lying."

She's pretty. She's pretty. She's pretty.

She's not slow. She's not slow. She's not slow.

"Furthermore," I continue, "There was no official complaint made and you won't be investigated."

"Rach…"

"And if you'll recall, I never signed that dumb contract you read at the first session. I was never your patient."

She surveys me, "How do you know all of this?"

"My lawyer is actually doing her job."

"_You_ met with your lawyer?"

Puh-lease.

"Lauren is there now, she's been sending me updates."

She nods as if it makes sense to her now.

"I met with the judge yesterday and I know of all this," she tells me as she sits back into the couch.

"You knew the judge that sentenced me to death?"

She arches an eyebrow.

"The sweetest death possible," I quickly correct.

"She's a family friend. I told her the entire story, save for the love part, and she agreed that it would be beneficial to you if I was your therapist."

"Great, this is even better news. So we're on the same page with this?"

"You still have to do thirty hours."

Ugh, that sucks.

"Done."

"Before you commit to a decision—"

"There is no decision to make Quinn, it's settled already. You won't get reprimanded and I won't—"

"I want you to know that I'm turning in my license anyway."

"What the fuck for?"

"Rach, I broke a ton of laws with what I did, you may not have been my patient when we _actually _got together but that doesn't really matter. I was emotionally involved with you and I still am, even if there are loopholes, I can't consciously continue as a therapist."

I stand up from the couch and gesture around the office, "But you love doing this."

"I love a lot of things."

"But this is your job, your life," I remind her.

This is her second home. If she's not at her apartment, then she's here and if she's not here then she's at my place.

"Priorities change."

"But you're an amazing therapist, people need you!"

All those poor crazies would be devastated if their number 1 shrink just decided to wave the white flag. Think of the crazies, Quinn!

"They'll find someone else they can depend on."

I shake my head, "I can't let you do this."

I'm stubborn as hell and I can't possibly let her do this to her life.

"It's already done."

Excuse me?

"You didn't even talk to me about this?"

Quinn finally stands from the couch and attempts to approach me but stops when I hold my hand out, "I had to make this decision alone, you have to understand."

I hate when she pleads because her voice cracks and so does my heart. I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing in and out. There's no way that she can turn in her license because that means that I'm the reason it's happening. I'm to blame for this.

"No! I don't _have _to understand anything! This is bullshit, Fabray. I'm not going to let you just throw away everything you've worked for. Our situation was different, we were special."

"It doesn't matter."

"So now I don't matter? What I feel and what I think doesn't matter to you anymore?"

I can't take this anymore, I feel claustrophobic in this office. I might be acting childish but it's just a side effect of not getting what I want. And I just want Quinn to be happy.

She steels her jaw, "That's not what I was saying and you know it."

I glare at her, "I know what you were saying."

I turn on my heel and begin walking towards her door. I'm furious with the entire situation.

"Would you rather me slide by on technicalities or do the responsible and moral thing?"

"I don't know what morals are," I throw over my shoulder.

"It's better this way," she calls out as I pull the door open.

Once the door slams closed I begin pacing around the lobby.

"Everything okay, Miss Berry?"

Ah Erin, so innocent in her ways.

Happily munching on a red and green gummy worm without a care in the world.

"No, everything is not okay Erin," I tell her as I walk towards her desk, "Am I being irrational? Is this really what she wants? You would never go to the press, right? It's just, she's an amazing person and an even better therapist and I completely ruined this for her. I know I'm being selfish but I'm standing up for all those poor crazy people that will have to find someone else to dump their problems on, they'll have to find another couch to sit on. Trust me, comfortable couches are hard to come by! Am I overreacting? God, I'm so overreacting. This isn't about me, well technically it is, but this is her decision to make. She's not making a mistake, is she? What do you think, do you think that she knows what she's doing? Of course, she does. She's Quinn Fabray and she's always known what she was doing. I still don't feel right about this. Damn her for giving me a heart again! Damn her to hell! Good chat, Er," I knock on her desk and walk back towards the office door.

I throw the door back open and startle Quinn out of her own pacing.

"I thought you'd be downstairs by now."

I should have been.

She runs her hands over her face and I cross the threshold into her office, the door closes behind me and I take a few more steps until I'm standing directly in front of her.

"I just needed a minute to compose myself," I tell her softly.

She nods, "I understand."

Of course she does, because she's perfect and everything I could ask for and more.

She reaches out and grasps both my hands in hers, her thumbs run over the back of my hands simultaneously as her eyes run over my face.

I take a deep breath, and then another one.

"So you're going to give up something you love—"

"For something else I love."

"But I'm—"

"Don't you dare tell me you're not worth it."

"And if we break up?"

She smiles softly, "We're not dating."

"You know what I fucking mean."

"We won't," she assures me.

"We might."

"I'm going to ignore your blatant disregard for what we have together and tell you that I still wouldn't regret my decision."

"But—"

She cuts me off again, "Rachel, sweetheart, I'm only twenty seven, I can do anything I want. You really don't have to worry about me."

Well, when she puts it that way.

"Being a therapist was rewarding in the beginning and helping people is something that I'll always have in me but if I'm being entirely honest, I didn't feel whole and now that I've thought about it seriously, I don't think I even want to be a therapist anymore, even if any of this didn't happen."

"So what will you do?"

"Anything. For once in my life I can do whatever I want."

She has a genuine smile and it's the smile I should be happy for. She's excited.

She continues, "I can go back to school or I can sit around all day," she laughs, "I'm overwhelmed with all the possibilities, I just want to do it all."

"You will," I whisper, her excitement feels like it's seeping into my veins.

"So you're okay with this?"

I nod and bite my lip, "I'm happy that you're happy."

"I want to make it clear, if you're going to issue this press release still, it's for you and not me."

"What do you mean? It's for the both of us."

"The only reason I'm letting you cover this up is because I don't want you to have to deal with the negative image you'll get for dating your therapist"

"Right, when we start dating," I smile coyly.

"Yes, when we start dating."

"Fine."

"And because you're going to take therapy seriously."

"No, I'm not," I laugh out.

She's on crack if she thinks that I'm going to seriously do thirty more hours of therapy and learn something from it.

* * *

><p>"Well what are you going to do with your life? I can't be friends with someone that bums around all day!" I scream, "It's bad for my image."<p>

My apartment has wonderful acoustics and my voice sounds magical as it reverberates off the walls.

"Who cares! It's my life, if you don't want to be my friend than that's your problem," she counters.

She's getting better and better at firing back at me. She doesn't even miss a beat anymore, it frightens me a bit. She reminds me of fierce cheerleader Quinn and it turns me on beyond belief. I love riling her up just to unwind her later.

"Okay, both of you need to stop. I've known for a month that you've been sleeping with each other. It was cute in the beginning but now you just give me headaches."

"I hate her?" I try one more time.

"If by hate you mean love then sure, I know you do."

I narrow my eyes at Lauren, Quinn's laughter breaks me out of my stare down.

"Traitor," I sneer at Quinn, she holds up her hand as the other covers over her stomach.

"I'm sorry," she breathes after catching her breath, "it's just funny that we've been doing this for nothing."

I remain neutral towards Quinn's amusement at the situation and turn my attention towards my assistant. I love when Quinn laughs and if I keep watching her than I know a smile will break out onto my face and Lauren will never get properly reprimanded.

"You have video cameras around the apartment, don't you?"

I knew it.

Lauren looks around the apartment, "You really are delusional sometimes."

I choose to ignore her observation. Because honestly? How could I not be paranoid that people are spying on me? I recently learned that Quinn had my table bugged so she could tell my incompetent boyfriend what to say when he took me out to dinner. My apartment could be as wired as the oval office when Nixon was president.

I remind myself to thank my driver later because without his side passion for politics, I would have never been able to make that analogy. I rarely paid attention in my general education classes unless it directly related to my aspirations.

"No, I'm not. Right, Quinn?"

"Why do you think I buzz before I come up now?" Lauren asks before Quinn can answer.

I was kind of hoping that Quinn could answer. I hope she doesn't agree with Lauren's viewpoint.

But my assistant makes a good point. How did I miss that?

"I don't know how you could have possibly known."

Quinn's still on the other side of the room sitting on a barstool at the island. Lauren is still sitting on the couch nonchalantly flipping through a magazine. She tells me it's for research but I think she secretly loves tabloid gossip, even though she knows almost all of it is exaggerated or false. She also tends to get excited when celebrities do the same things she does.

"You're with her every free moment you have," she replies.

"That doesn't prove anything."

"I upped Charles' salary so he would tell me where he takes you when I'm not around."

That little!

"Who gave you authorization to do that?"

She laughs, "You did. In the middle of your fake fight with Quinn about what kind of _Campbell's_ soup was the best for snow days."

Tomato soup is far superior to Quinn's chicken noodle. I was actually serious about that argument.

It goes without saying that we were obviously running low on topics for discussion that particular day.

She shrugs, "Well you signed the document, _you_ should have been paying more attention."

Oh, _I_ should have been paying more attention. She shouldn't have taken advantage of my absent mind. And my mind tends to be absent quite a lot when Quinn and I are in the same room.

"What else have you done?"

She looks down at the magazine; I see she's done answering my inquiries. Clearly she's guilty of something.

"I blame you," I point to Quinn who's been sporting an amused smirk on her face the entire time.

"Me!" she points to her chest, "This was your idea."

Lauren chuckles to herself. I turn my glare on her, she doesn't get to chuckle or have fun when I'm around.

"We have lots of hot sex on that couch."

"Ew!"

"Rachel!"

I shrug, "She deserved to know."

She didn't deserve to know, I just wanted to see her freak out. It was highly amusing.

Lauren flies up from the couch and moves towards the smaller loveseat.

"I wouldn't," I sing song.

She rolls her eyes before spinning around a few times, out of options of where to sit. She gestures towards the coffee table and I shake my head back and forth.

"Are you serious? The coffee table?" she whips around to Quinn who is burrowing her red face in her hands.

I'm finding this entire interaction rather memorable. Like I said, no shame.

"What can I say, she's _that_ good."

Lauren huffs and begins to make her way towards the door; I guess she's had enough of me for one day. I'm sure she'll be back in an hour. Quinn sends her a small sympathetic wave. I'm positive that I'm going to be reprimanded for embarrassing her and announcing our sexual endeavors so I might as well milk it while I still can. I can claim ignorance after the fact.

"Laur," I call out to her.

She turns around, "I don't want to know."

I really don't care if she wants to know or not.

"We need to sound proof the apartment too, so, look into it."

Lauren rolls her eyes and turns to Quinn whose face has never been redder. I meant it when I said she's pretty when she's flustered.

"I blame you," she points towards the blonde who now has her hands thrown in the air; clearly she's surrendering and accepts full blame.

She can tame me but she can't hold me down. Unless of course I'm handcuffed, but that's a different situation entirely.

"Don't blame her, I just don't think the neighbors appreciate me screaming Quinn's name every night," I shrug innocently, "Well, basically whenever we're alone."

Quinn's eyes widen and Lauren shakes her head. I mean, she should seriously be used to this by now.

"I deserve a raise," she states.

"I'm sure you already gave yourself one."

She throws the door open and I don't miss the smirk she has when she slips out into the hallway.

"You," Quinn points once we're alone again. Her eyes are narrowed and she looks determined.

Is it entirely cliché if I audibly gulp?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She gets up from the barstool and walks over towards me, I should have better anticipated that she'd want revenge for me completely exploiting our alone time in order to get back at Lauren. Why was I even attempting to get back at her anyway?

She doesn't say anything as she comes to a stop in front of me and she's completely in my personal space.

"So…Lauren knows. That's cool, huh?"

She raises an eyebrow; she's totally not buying my ploy to change the subject.

"You're in trouble," she whispers.

I sway towards her. It's like her presence just magnetically moves me closer to her. I close my eyes when I feel her hands slide under my t-shirt, her palms are still cold from resting on the marble countertop and I shiver.

"You gonna punish me?"

"I am."

She leans closer and her lips brush against mine as her nose lightly nuzzles my cheek; her hands are starting to grip my skin as they travel over my stomach. She begins to moan into my mouth and every sound she makes shoots right to my center. We're not even doing anything and she still makes me feel incredible.

I smile against her lips which are still lightly tracing mine.

"How?"

Images of her undressing me in the master bedroom flood my mind while electric jolts travel to my core. Her teasing would go on for a bit before she'd ultimately cave to my begging. She loves it when I tell her exactly what I want. She loves it when I whimper until she gives me exactly what I need.

She finally attaches her lips to mine and her hunger takes me by surprise. She can be particularly greedy on most occasions or she can be giving when she wants to be. There's something entirely different about this kiss and my mind is too clouded to realize what it is.

"You'll see," she growls into my mouth before pulling back from me.

It takes me a few seconds to open my eyes and it's then that I realize she's nowhere near me. She's smirking at me evilly a few feet away, like she's proud that she accomplished what she wanted.

"Oh, you are _such_ a tease."

She shrugs, "Guess you won't be screaming my name anytime soon."

I open my mouth to protest, surely I can think of _something_ to fire back at her. She just completely blue-balled me and doesn't seem the least bit affected.

"At least until your apartment is sound proofed," she taunts.

I think my jaw is opened, I feel betrayed. I run a hand through my hair in order to compose myself; I literally have no rebuttal for her unsportsmanlike conduct. She picks her coat up triumphantly and throws it over her shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"I have things to do."

"_Do_ me."

She laughs, "You sound desperate."

"You've seen yourself, correct? How could I not be?"

"And here I thought we had a deeper connection," she shakes her head and continues towards the door.

"Take me with you?"

She pauses and her smile is genuine before she gestures her head towards my coat, "Come on."

I feel like clapping. I throw on my coat and join her at the door.

She leans in and gives me a small kiss on the lips before she opens the door and allows me to walk ahead of her out into the hallway.

"So where are we going?"

She watches her feet as she walks and I find myself watching her feet as well, "Home Depot," she replies before glancing at me. My face must give away my confusion because she elaborates, "Sound proofing materials."

There's a flash to her eyes that lets me know she's kidding and I realize that I don't really care where we're going as long as we're going together.


	3. Chapter 3

"Stop bouncing your leg."

"I can't."

Quinn's hand rests on top of my right thigh and it effectively stops my motions short.

The forecast called for snow but what's the point of watching the weather when they're never right. It's so like the meteorologists to lie to me. It's drizzling lightly and coating everything it falls on. The windshield wipers are systematically moving every few seconds while the heat pours into the interior of the darkened town car.

"Stop cracking your knuckles," she demands softly.

"I can't."

Her hand leaves my thigh and comes up so she can thread her fingers through mine. She brings both of our hands to once again rest on my thigh before it starts bouncing again.

Charles maneuvers through the city streets as if he's been driving them his entire life. He's from the mid-west so naturally I know he hasn't been doing this forever. When he was telling me about his old life, I imagined him riding around on a tractor and it still makes me giggle to picture him in something other than his black suit. How he can be so calm while driving is absolutely a testament to the easy going lifestyle that he left behind before moving out here with his wife so she could pursue an art career. He doesn't even honk if someone cuts him off, and I don't think I've ever heard him use profanity. God help the state of New York if I were to ever need to get behind the wheel for some reason. I don't think any pedestrian would be safe from my road rage and absolute blinding terror. It's part of my appeal.

"Stop gnawing your lip."

"I can't."

She wiggles her hand out of mine, it takes her a few seconds and it's probably because I have her in a white knuckled grip of death. She turns my chin with her pointer finger until I'm face to face with her. Her lips capture mine and I feel all the anxiety and nervousness flee my body as our lips delicately glide against each other. She knows exactly what to do at all times and it's frightening in the best way possible.

I'm faintly aware of the black divider going up. Charles tends to give us our privacy and I've never been more grateful.

She pulls back but keeps me close.

"Everything will be fine."

I want to believe her because she's never been wrong before but it's a little hard when there are so many possible things that could go wrong.

She must see my hesitancy because she wraps her arm around my shoulder and pulls me into her.

She kisses the top of my head, "I promise you, okay? I already told you that I'd be on my best behavior."

I laugh and tilt my head up to look at her. She seems sincere and I know it's because she actually is sincere.

"I know you will. It's him that I'm worried about."

She purses her lips into a small frown.

"We don't have to do this."

It wasn't my idea in the first place but it's one of those things that seem unavoidable. Especially if I want to show her how serious I am about her.

I reach up and kiss her bottom lip.

"We need to."

The car rolls to a stop and her grip around me tightens. I wonder if she felt me tense when Charles put the car in park.

She gets out of the car first and waits until I'm on the sidewalk before we begin walking. I know that my assistant can sometimes be a whack job but I'm seriously grateful for her obsession with disguising her voice in order to throw off gossip reporters. There's not a soul in sight. Quinn guides me into the restaurant and we're both led to the private table that's set up in the back.

Jesse stands when he sees us and I can already tell that he's not amused by the bombardment.

"You told me the added seat was for your assistant," he states dryly.

Yeah, he's pissed.

It's weird that he remains a gentleman even when he's mad. He gives me a kiss on my cheek before he pulls the chair out for me. I glance to Quinn out of the corner of my eye and see her deflate slightly. I wonder if she's upset that he's doing all the things she wishes she could do.

"Jesse," Quinn nods.

"Well if it isn't the devil herself."

Okay, yeah. No.

"This was a bad idea. Let's go, Quinn," I rise up from the chair. I haven't even been able to unbutton my coat and already I know this is a disaster waiting to happen.

I don't know what alternate reality I was living in that made me believe this would remain civil. Jesse can be wicked when he knows he has the upper hand and clearly he believes that he does.

"It's fine," she tells me as she takes her seat.

Jesse smirks and sits down across from us at the small square table. I shoot him a warning glare. He was blindsided by tonight's extra guest and I didn't get a chance to give him some kind of talk that went along the lines of threatening his entire collection of platinum albums should he upset Quinn in any way.

The three of us get comfortable in our chairs and I can already tell it's going to be a long night. I wonder if Quinn will let me have some kind of tequila. I glance at her from behind my oversized menu and she's expressionless, as if she's not in the middle of what's sure to be a bigger travesty than a Barbara Walters interview. I would know.

"Rach, I ordered us a bottle of wine."

Well that settles the drink dilemma. But, he should probably order two more.

"Thank you."

"Quinn, I'm not sure that they have holy water on the menu."

I drop my menu and it rattles the silverware next to my plate.

"That's enough."

He holds his hands up in surrender. He's acting like an older brother and it's a real pain in my ass.

He leans back in his seat, I presume he already knows what he's getting. If he gets chicken fingers again I swear to God I'm going to shove them down his throat.

"It's good to see you though, Rachy, it's been what? Two months? I imagine you've been pretty busy," I watch his eyes settle on Quinn's and I instantly feel myself grow protective, "Probably in the recording studio, huh?" his knowing smile unsettles me.

I want to grab her hand under the table but I know there is no way to do it without bringing attention to ourselves. She makes me feel safe and even though she's two short feet away from me, it isn't enough right now.

This is literal torture.

I clear my throat as I look over the menu again, "Yes, I've been doing a lot of writing and recording."

It's not a complete lie. I've had sudden inspiration in my life. Quinn's kind of my muse.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. You've got to get back out there, it's been almost a year since your last album. You need a big comeback."

I internally roll my eyes because I'm afraid if I actually do it then I'll lose my place on the menu. I've already been distracted enough to re-read the first entrée three times without retaining any of it.

"I know Jess, how many times have we had this conversation?"

"Well it's your career. Especially after this latest _scandal,_" the way he says it has traces of disgust in it and I know it's aimed towards Quinn, "It's important to let your fans know that you're not going anywhere."

Where would I even go? I can't even go for a walk without being seen or photographed. I'm pretty sure my fans know that I'm still alive and well.

"Speaking of scandals," he continues, "Heard about your little press release last week. That was clever."

Ah yes, the press release. It went far better than anyone intended. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Time will tell.

"Yeah thanks."

"So you expect me to believe that you're only acquaintances?"

I knew that it wouldn't suffice someone like Jesse.

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"You don't forgive easily," he answers simply.

Quinn is silently looking over her menu in the seat next to me as if she's not listening with rapt attention. She's been acting indifferent this entire time but I felt her shift at his last statement. Quinn has known me since kindergarten and she knew me when I forgave _too_ easily. It's just a weird feeling that I'm probably reading too much into but I have a strange sensation that she's regretting something. Whether it's breaking me down so much in the past that I stopped forgiving or it's missing the part of my life that allowed Jesse to know me better.

"I forgave your dumb ass."

He gasps and his jaw drops in mock hurt, "I brought you closer to your mother, but I guess Quinn did that too, with Beth and all."

"Tread very lightly St. James."

He acknowledges my warning but continues anyway, "It's hard to believe because you're the one that told me Quinn has had a crush on you since high school and that she basically admitted it when you were in Ohio. You're going to tell me that you're not fucking?"

I wince at his word choice.

Quinn turns to look at me probably feeling a little troubled that I told Jesse about the behind the scenes nonsense that we've had to overcome. Jesse smiles when he sees the reaction he's gotten.

"You're starting trouble and I'm advising you to knock it off before I connect my fist to your nose."

I've been working on my use of profanity. In actuality, I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up before I stabbed him in the eye with my stiletto.

Normally when I threaten his nose he backs off, I guess he's finally starting to see through my hollowed threats.

"So Quinn, tell me, is Rachel the first patient you've taken advantage of? I imagine this is sort of your thing?"

Quinn's jawbone is working overtime to keep her emotions in check. She's trying hard to behave and it's only because she's seen the state I've been in all day about this dinner. She's not the same girl from high school, she normally takes what people throw at her because in some weird way she believes she deserves it. Only when she's drinking does she fire back with an attitude that would rival that of a sophomore head cheerleader who is only protecting herself. I expected her to fly off the handle at the mention of Beth and Jesse is damn lucky that she's grown up because he wouldn't stand a chance.

"I know you have a problem with me, Jesse—"

"I'd have a problem with anyone that mindlessly tortured Rachel for years and then decided to one day make nice. Not even considering the fact that you weaseled your way back into her life through the law, forced her to open up, and then essentially preyed on her emotions. Do you have any idea how serious the repercussions could have been if you were to ever actually sleep with her? The press release may have gotten you off the hook but it doesn't change what you did and how you did it. You may have meant well but you're despicable and I don't think you deserve Rachel's forgiveness so quickly. I don't think you deserve it at all."

I'm shocked into silence. I'm _rarely _silent. I don't even think I've blinked in thirty seconds. It all happened so fast.

Quinn's eyes close and after a few seconds she opens them again, I'm entirely tunnel-visioned on her.

"You're right," she pushes her chair back and stands, "Excuse me for a minute," she says lowly, her eyes land on mine briefly before she walks away from the table.

I stare at her retreating form and it takes me at least a minute to break out of my trance. Jesse seems to be in the same state of shock that I'm in, probably for an entirely different reason. What just happened finally catches up to me and I'm enraged. I push back my chair and it nearly falls over onto the floor.

"Do you have to be such a jackass all the time? You better pray that you didn't upset her too much because if she gives me the go-ahead, I will attack you until you cry."

"Rach—"

"Don't."

I ignore the few eyes that dare look at me as I walk towards the only bathroom at the opposite side of the restaurant. I find her in front of the mirror with her eyes closed; she appears to be counting under her breath.

"Quinn?"

Her eyes snap open and find mine in the mirror, "You didn't have to come after me, I just needed a minute."

I wrap my arms around her, my heels give me a slight height advantage and I rest my chin on her shoulder. She continues to stare at me through the mirror while she rests her own hands on top of mine as they protect her stomach.

"Don't listen to him."

She sighs and it's so completely unlike her to lose her confidence so quickly.

"He was right, Rach."

I didn't think to check the two stalls behind me to see if they were being occupied and thankfully they're not. It makes me nervous that I don't think I'd remove my arms from her body even if there was someone else in this bathroom.

"He doesn't understand."

"It's pretty black and white when you look at it from any other perspective but ours."

Her eyes soften the longer I stare at them. I find it funny that we're discussing things that are black and white while we're standing in the middle of a black and white decorated bathroom.

"Well our perspective is the only one that matters."

I also find it funny that while we're standing in this chic black bathroom, we're both wearing bright colors that completely parallel our perspectives. We're special.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No, I'm saying it because it's true. Isn't my opinion the only one that actually matters? If I thought the same way he did, I don't think I'd be in this bathroom with you. He wasn't in the room with you during sessions, he wasn't in Ohio when we needed each other, and he certainly doesn't see you like I see you. If he did, I think he'd be in love with you and then I'd be forced to kick his ass even more than I already want to."

She turns around in my embrace so that she's facing me. Her hair is pulled away from her face and her eyes stand out even more against her smoky eye makeup. My eyes flutter closed briefly when she places a small kiss on my forehead.

"Your opinion is the only one that matters to me, Rach. It's just still fresh in my mind so it's like he's pouring salt on an open wound. How long did it take me in high school to finally talk about Beth with someone?"

It took at least a year, maybe more.

"I understand."

I understand, I really do. She was never one to discuss her feelings. Hell, she had a crush on me and I only just found out.

"I deal with things internally," she adds.

"I can't read minds."

"Sometimes I think you can."

Me too.

"What do you need me to say? Are you second guessing your choices?"

"What? No! Of course not. He just managed to bring up everything I've been insecure about in a matter of sixty seconds. I needed a minute to compose myself."

"If it means anything, I don't agree with a word he said."

She smiles and pulls me into a hug, her breath tickles my ear.

"It means everything," she whispers.

I pull back and grab her wrist.

"Let's just go back to my apartment or something, we can get takeout," I offer.

She shakes her head no.

"You mean a lot to him," she starts, "And I have to admit, if I was in his position I think I would do the same."

Somehow I feel like she would be much worse.

"That's because you're you."

She leans her hip against the black marbled counter.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I follow her lead and lean my hip against the counter as well, facing her with my back to the door.

"Do I have to remind you that you've been in love with me for eight years?"

Who wouldn't want to gloat about that fact?

She taps her finger to her chin, "Well you haven't reminded me yet today so I guess I must have forgotten."

I roll my eyes, "You don't have to go back out there."

She runs a fingernail up and down the bare skin of my forearm. I'm watching her eyes as they watch the motions of her finger.

"It's important to you."

It was important to me. Jesse's approval was important to me and them being able to get along was important to me. But he's being a douchebag and his acceptance doesn't seem all that important to me anymore.

I trap her finger under my palm and she finally makes eye contact.

"You're more important to me right now, he's a drama queen and I'm his only friend. He'll get over it."

She smiles and wiggles her finger out from under my grasp, she brings her hand to cup my cheek and her thumb caresses my cheek bone. She pulls my face closer to hers and places another small kiss on my lips.

"I'm going to try harder, okay? I won you over, didn't I?"

I smile back at her. I consider her everyday personality charming and I can't even imagine what _her_ version of charming is.

Besides, it hasn't even been five minutes since we walked into the restaurant, she doesn't have to try any harder.

I bring my own hand up to keep hers in place.

"This isn't about you winning him over, you don't need to do that."

"I know we said that we'd wait to see how he took the idea of us being friends before we told him anything else but he's obviously not going to be receptive to the idea so maybe we should wait longer. We'll get through dinner and we'll find another way to tell him about us. He doesn't even know that we've slept together, I can't imagine him taking the news too well right now."

It's amazing that this is something that is happening between us and she's still worried about _his_ feelings and how _he's_ going to take it. Especially after he just acted like the biggest jerk in the world to her.

"I really don't care about him."

She laughs and brings her other hand up to push back a few strands of my hair.

"He's your friend."

She says it as if I wasn't aware of the fact. Technically, right now he's skating on thin ice in the friend department, he's lucky that Quinn knows how to smile wide and brush things off when she needs to. I don't approve of the action but it's the only thing from high school that's still the same about her and I'm feeling nostalgic so I'll allow it.

I drag her hand towards my mouth and place a kiss on her palm before I let go of it.

"And so are you."

"Just a friend?" she arches her eyebrow.

Okay, well that is the other surviving trait from high school. I wonder if she practices that skill in the mirror. I curb my inner musings once I start imagining her obsession for the _Rocky _movies and the eyebrow workout I'm sure she does every morning. She already thinks I'm crazy enough, I don't need to be randomly laughing to myself, too.

"Yes, because as far as I know, we still aren't dating."

I've yet to get her grand gesture of romanticism and I'm certainly not going to be the one that does it.

"Right," she drawls out.

I walk backwards towards the door and she follows me.

"C'mon, let's go back out there and order the most expensive thing on the menu so he has to pay for it," I grin.

Little does she know, I tend to do that anyway when Jesse asks me to dinner. She laughs and shakes her head as she opens the door for me.

"Somehow I don't think that would affect him considering he chose a place that has a fifty dollar burger," she says quietly.

We walk side by side until the pathway gets too narrow, she allows me to go first.

"Then we order ten of everything and give all the waitresses a 50% tip."

I hear her chuckle behind me, "You're adorable."

I turn around and beam back at her, "So I've been told."

We get back to our table and I notice that all three of our wine glasses are filled. No doubt this is his way of apologizing for being an asshole.

We take our seats.

"Sorry, just needed to freshen up," Quinn says as she picks up the menu.

The waitress comes back after a minute and I'm entirely unprepared to give my order. It makes me spite Jesse even more, I don't like feeling rushed. Even though waitresses try their best to remain neutral, I know they easily become impatient and it makes me that much more nervous. Instead of blurting out the first thing that may sound good, I just order the same as Quinn. I trust her. Actually, considering she eats every kind of meat possible I don't think it was a good idea to trust Quinn's food choice. Damn Jesse further for ruining my meal. I have a feeling Lauren is going to be ordering me something later.

It's entirely too silent for a casual dinner amongst _friends_. Neither of them really fall under that label right now and for two completely different reasons

If you can hear the conversation happening three tables over, it's _too_ silent.

"I apologize for my rude behavior before, Quinn."

I glance at him to see if he's being sincere. It appears that he is but I'm still on high alert.

"No need to apologize, Jesse."

I like how she's able to avoid accepting his apology but still able to be polite. She's like a pretty magician.

"It's just," he starts and then sighs. God, he's _so_ dramatic, "I don't understand why you would go to such lengths to reconnect with Rachel."

Quinn glances at me and smiles. I don't know if she meant to be that obvious or if it happened unconsciously but I smile back at her and I do it on purpose. Jesse be damned.

"She's a remarkable person," she replies as her eyes are still on me, my smile only widens. She turns back towards Jesse, "I'm sure you're already aware of that. You also reconnected with her years after high school."

He nods as if he agrees with her, maybe this conversation will be normal and he'll start to understand why I wanted this entire dinner to happen in the first place. It's not that I _need_ his blessing to continue seeing Quinn, I've done plenty of things regardless of his thoughts on the individual matters. I just figured that I'd be a good friend and let him know before the rest of the world finds out. It's only a matter of time before we slip up in public. We decided we'd let the ones closest to us know first before we discussed anything else.

We're so cute! Discussing and deciding things together.

"I know and I was _genuinely_ sorry for how I treated her."

Here we go. I knew it was too good to be true.

"And you don't think that I am?" she asks, a little taken back and probably very much hurt.

She knows that I know how sorry she is, and she knows how sorry she is. It's him that doesn't know how sorry he's about to be.

"Honestly? No."

Her face scrunches a bit, "Why's that?"

I don't want her to encourage him but I also don't want to reprimand her.

"Anyone hear any good jokes lately?" I throw out there.

It was worth a shot.

Jesse's gaze is undeterred. His eyes were always the most threatening thing about him, followed by his smirk. When he works both of them, people normally don't stand a chance. Quinn refuses to give in to his intimidation tactics and her eyes penetrate his. I don't know if I should watch intently or look away, it's like a 12 car pileup in a snowstorm.

They've been staring at each other for so long that I'm wondering if they're having a staring competition because I'm pretty sure neither of them have blinked in a while. Maybe they're telepathically communicating with each other, it wouldn't be the first time that I credited telepathy to situations like these. He seems slightly impressed with her ability to keep up with him and settles back into his seat arrogantly. He picks up one of the silver butter knives and plays with it on the table.

"I think you just wanted to clear your conscience, I don't think you truly care about her or else you wouldn't have done what you did. The fact that you basically premeditated it is proof enough that you really don't put her feelings into consideration."

My feelings are pretty much the only thing that Quinn takes into consideration. How dare he.

"Jesse, can we drop this? It's really not any of your business and I don't appreciate you attacking Quinn for her motives."

I should have used some choice curse words to punctuate my seriousness.

"It's okay, Rach. He has every right to express himself, this is good, maybe we'll make some forward progress if he can understand the reasoning behind it all."

He's never going to understand but bless her soul for trying. She's only doing it for me.

He chuckles and it's a skin crawling sound, "So now you're going to be a therapist? Too bad you couldn't be one when Rachel _actually_ needed you."

Quinn recoils.

That's it.

"You're being a real shitty friend," I fire at him, "You're so hell bent on bringing Quinn down that you don't even care that it's upsetting me. In fact, you don't even seem to care that she actually makes me happy. Quinn has been nothing but civil towards you, she hasn't once given you any reason to treat her this way, and I'm not going to sit around while you berate my girlfriend for things that you don't and will _never_ understand."

I stand from the table and this time my chair does knock over, I'm too caught up to care. For the first time all night he actually looks frightened and he has every reason to be.

"Girlfriend?" he whispers looking back and forth between us, "Rachel, you can't be serious," he looks around to make sure no one is actually watching us. Thankfully, we're secluded.

But shit.

I glance down at Quinn to see her eyes on me. Of course they are, she's wearing a cross between a smile and a _I can't believe you just said that_ expression.

"I'm _very _serious. I'm serious about this, I'm serious about her, and I'm seriously about to kick your ass if you even think about opening your mouth to protest. I don't care about what you have to say anymore, you've spoke your piece, and I didn't like what you had to say. Therefore, you are no longer allowed to talk."

He goes to open his mouth.

"Unless you're going to apologize to Quinn, don't open your mouth."

His mouth shuts.

"Quinn?"

"Yes, darling?" she looks up to me and bats her eyelashes playfully.

I bite my cheek to keep from smiling at her.

"Get up, we're leaving."

"Yes, Sweetie."

Quinn pushes her chair back gracefully and calmly stands as she shrugs her coat on.

"Rach, I didn't know," he stutters.

He looks so vulnerable and innocent. God, he's such a good actor. I don't know if he means it or not so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I'm still livid though.

"I know you didn't. I get that you're trying to be the overprotective friend and everything and I'd appreciate it if this was something I needed to be protected from."

Quinn's behind me with my coat draped over her arm.

I continue, "I wanted you to be the first one to know and now you know."

I take the coat from her and smile.

"Go on ahead, I'll be there in a minute," I tell her.

She looks hesitant to leave and I see her look to Jesse before coming back to me.

She nods, "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Jesse," she tells him sincerely before she turns to me again, "One minute or I'm coming back in," she whispers and I nod.

I don't think I could be apart from her for more than a minute right now.

I wait until Quinn is out of earshot before I glare at him.

He's watching her retreating form with a perplexed expression, I think she just shocked him into silence once again.

"This has to be some kind of a joke."

"You're unbelievable."

"I'm sorry," he stands and reaches for my hand, I stop and look at him, "I just find it hard to believe that you and Quinn Fabray are _actually _dating," he whispers.

"If it was a publicity stunt don't you think we would have announced it?" I sneer.

He ignores me, "How long?"

I shrug, "I don't know, two months I guess."

"Wow."

"I need to go."

"Wait!"

"No, I'm furious with you right now, you need to give me some time."

I turn to leave once again because I can feel the surrounding tables quiet down in hopes of overhearing our conversation. I won't be surprised if this is on a gossip blog by the time I get home. I'll have to alert Lauren to be on Google patrol, fans don't like it when you fight with your best friend in public.

"So, what? Just like that? She comes before me now?"

I take a deep breath and remind myself to keep my voice down, "I didn't say that but you were just a real asshole for no reason and right now you're on my hit list."

"Don't you mean shit list?"

"No."

He swallows, "Look, get her back in here. We can finish dinner, I promise I won't say anything rude and I'll try not to upset you anymore."

Not good enough, St. James.

"No. I want you to be okay with this. You'll just be biting your tongue and I'm not putting Quinn in that position."

I know him and I know he would inadvertently say something to piss me off and then our fans would have evidence that we were fighting. His black eye would not be camera shy.

"How could you possibly expect me to be okay with this?"

"Maybe if you actually took the time to get to know her then you'd change your mind."

He scoffs, "How am I supposed to do that when you won't even go get her so we can finish our dinner?"

I cross my arms so he knows I'm not messing around, "My apartment next Thursday at eight o'clock, if you're serious about this then we'll see you then. If you don't show then I'll know your final thoughts on the matter."

"Is this some kind of an ultimatum?"

"If you want to consider it that way."

"And if I don't show up?"

Does he really think I'm in the mood for one of his dumb challenges?

"I'll still be in your life, just not as much. I'm not bringing Quinn near you if you're going to attack her for your own personal vendetta. She glared at you in High School, big fucking deal, get over it already."

"Her and the mohawk spray painted my car," he shrieks.

It takes all I have in me not to laugh in his face. That's amazing.

"Good you deserved it."

He deadpans, "Twice."

Even better.

"Then you better not disappoint me or else she'll come after you again," I smirk, "And I won't call her off."

I doubt Quinn has it in her to graffiti his personal property again but it's fun to scare him.

"I can't believe you're taking her side after everything we've been through."

"I can't believe you're making me choose a side."

I miss Quinn.

"Thanks for dinner," I tell him before I walk towards the door.

Quinn's waiting up near the hostess, she smiles when she sees me and it makes me feel the slightest bit better. I don't even have to second guess that I made the right choice in defending her.

"Everything okay?" she asks as we get out into the cold.

I have no idea where I'm going, I'm just walking. I whirl around to face her and find that she's stopped a few feet behind me. I walk back towards her.

"Everything is fine."

She holds her arm out and I take it, she begins to walk slowly and I match her pace.

"I'm proud of you," she says after walking for about a block. The rain is so light that it doesn't feel like anything.

"Why? Because I completely bitchslapped my best friend?"

I didn't mean for it to sound as bitter as it came out, I'm just mad about the entire situation. It wasn't how I wanted this night to go.

"There's a reason you use that adjective to describe him. He'll come around eventually, we can be patient."

"Oh yeah? And what do you know about patience?"

She raises that eyebrow, "Really? Eight years Rach, eight."

I laugh and tilt my head back to look at the sky, "Where are we going anyway?"

"I'm taking you on a date. A real date."

"I knew that whole girlfriend thing would go straight to your head."

"Naturally," she muses.

"Don't read too much into it Fabray, I still don't like you very much."

"I think you do."

I can hear her smile through the words and I drop whatever retort I had lined up. We walk in silence and I let her guide me to the place she has in mind.

I'm not paying attention to street signs and I have lost all sense of direction. It doesn't really bother me though because Quinn seems to have an atlas of New York in her mind. I like to imagine her studying Mapquest late at night until she's memorized where every restaurant, bar, and hidden gem of the city is. Somehow she knows of all the best places.

She leads me into this small Italian café that has less than ten tables. You're allowed to seat yourself and Quinn chooses a table in one of the corners. There's only one waitress and she appears after a few minutes with a bottle of wine and the menus. It's nowhere near as fancy as the restaurant we were previously in and there's not a soul insight. It's literally just the two of us.

"Everything looks so good, I don't know what to get," I comment as I scan the menu for the fifth time.

This has never happened to me before, I've always been able to narrow down my choices but I just can't.

Quinn takes a sip of her wine and sets it back down. She didn't even need to look at her menu.

She takes my menu and sets it on top of hers.

The waitress appears a minute later and Quinn gives her our order. There's something so indescribably sexy about Quinn when she exudes such confidence. She even knew what type of salad dressing to order with my side salad.

"By the way," I start after a few minutes of idle chatter, "We need to find me a cookbook."

"Do I want to know why?" she asks as she breaks off a piece of bread and dips it into the plate of oil and seasonings.

"Jesse seemed to feel pretty bad about picking on you and I've decided to give him another chance."

"Okay?"

"So he's going to be coming over my apartment next Thursday."

She dips another piece of bread into the oil, "And you want to make him dinner?"

"No, I need something heavy to throw at his head should he piss me off again."

She laughs. I think she thought I was kidding.

"I'll give you a cookbook if you let me help with dinner."

Okay seriously, who said anything about me making dinner for that asshole?

Although, her offer _does_ sound tempting.

"Will you wear an apron?"

"Um, sure?"

Good, now I just need to somehow get her to _only _be wearing the apron.

"And your reading glasses?"

She eyes me suspiciously, "Okay?"

Wonderful. Fantasy complete.

"Good. It's settled."

"I'm not going to ask any questions."

"Probably for the best."

"But I think it's a good idea to have him over," She continues.

I swirl the wine around in my glass a few times before I take a sip, "Why are you so forgiving?"

I find it rather funny that our roles have completely switched since our McKinley days.

"I can't expect others to forgive me if I can't forgive them."

I believed that at one point in my life. I stare at my glass of wine as I silently reminisce. I can tell when Quinn is upset about something, it's my seventh sense and sometimes it's stronger than all my other senses combined. I could tell in high school and I can tell now, the only difference is that I can finally say something without the fear that she will retaliate with hurtful words as a way to protect herself. I'm allowed to inquire about her feelings, it's my job now.

"I know that his words hurt you," I start and her eyes snap up to meet mine, "You don't have to internally deal with this, I want to be here for you. You can at least give me that."

She sighs, "Fine, you're right. He did get to me. I'm still sensitive regarding my motives and I think I'll always be ashamed of myself for how it happened."

I go to open my mouth to refute her feelings. To prove to her that she shouldn't be ashamed because it worked out for us.

"But I still can't bring myself to regret it because it brought me back to you. And I think that's the main reason why I'm ashamed, because I'd probably do it again if I had to."

"I'd let you."

She reaches for her glass of wine again, taking her time to sip it, "At first, I just thought we could become friends, ya know? That's all I really wanted and I'd consider myself lucky if we were able to be that. But as the weeks continued I couldn't help but feel myself grow more attracted to you, and then before I knew it, I was re-falling in love with you. It was scary that I had no control over it, much like in High School. It just sort of happened and it didn't take much I suppose. I mean, look at you, you're beautiful."

I duck my head into my shoulder to hide my sudden bashfulness at her admittance. Few people can make me blush or feel this way.

"You're independent, you're confident, you're absolutely addictive, Rach. I knew I was in way over my head that night we went out with everyone and it didn't get any better in Ohio. Seeing you and Beth together, hearing you sing at church, watching you stand up to my Dad… you just continued to solidify my feelings for you."

She has such a way with words that I don't ever recall her having. It's like she went to the college of Romance and majored in Rachel Berry.

"I felt it, all of it," I mumble, I don't even think she could have heard me.

"I should have put space between us the second I felt myself losing control. I'm still that selfish girl you knew in high school, I just stopped hiding it when it came to you."

"It's not entirely your fault, when I put my mind to something, I normally accomplish it. I don't think I would have let you distance yourself from me."

"My charm and wit reeled you in?"

Something like that.

"You somehow managed to do the impossible, Fabray."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

I gesture around the small restaurant, "You got me on a real date."

She laughs slightly and nods her head before taking another sip of wine, she's at the crossroads right now. She can either take the serious path or one filled with lighthearted conversation. I'm prepared for either.

"So Lauren knows and so does Jesse. We're getting there."

"This would be so much easier if I wasn't famous."

She chuckles, "You know, I've always wondered why you dated a man to keep your secret. You've always struck me as someone that would never hide who they were."

"I used to be."

"What changed?"

It feels like we're back in one of our sessions.

"Honestly? I have no idea. My publicist drilled it into my head that it would be a terrible career choice, I guess."

"What do you think?"

I think that my father passed away knowing his daughter as someone that was ashamed to be the way she was. I think that there are thousands of people who could benefit from knowing someone they look up to is just like them. I think that somewhere along the line I lost sight of what was important to me. I think that Quinn is the only one that can help me remember.

"I think I'm established enough to be okay."

She frowns, "So what's stopping you?"

"Talking about it and actually doing it are two very different things. Announcing that I'm the way that I am—"

"Gay?"

"Yeah, that. Publically announcing it seems like it would be a death sentence."

Quinn's frowning again and it's probably because she's trying to figure out how I went from the proud daughter of gay parents to someone that can't even say the word out loud.

"I'm not pressuring you Rachel, I just need to know."

"Know what?"

"Are we going to be hiding forever? I mean, I'll do it for you but I'd just like to know."

Forever might be the scariest word I've ever heard in my life. The idea of being with Quinn forever isn't freaking me out as much as the idea of having to hide Quinn forever.

"No."

"Okay."

Her response is neutral and void of all emotion, I honestly can't tell if she's relieved or disappointed.

"Did you want to hide forever or something?"

"No, not at all. I just want us to both be ready for it. We'll gradually tell our friends and family and we'll get to that point together, okay?"

I feel like crying but I don't know why, "Okay."

"You don't seem okay."

"I'm sorry," I shake my head out of my weird daze, "I've just never had a conversation like this before."

"We've had a lot of conversations that you've probably never had with someone else before."

"You're probably right."

I need to get the spotlight off of me. I feel like I can't breathe properly with Quinn's innocent prodding. She has every right to know what to expect and I can't fault her for questioning me about it but I just can't get into it right now. It's bringing up all the guilt that I've worked so hard to bury.

"Will you be okay? With everything? I mean, this is happening to you, too."

She mulls over my question as she continues to swirl her wine, "I'll be just fine. I just need a distraction."

"From me?"

The idea makes me feel numb and this time I actually think I might cry. Normally when I feel this way, I storm out and hide in my apartment until I feel better but for the life of me I can't bring myself to get up from this table. Especially because the person that would probably make me feel better is the person sitting across from me.

"From now having my days free, I need to do something with my life. At the very least to not give Jesse any more ammo against me."

"You can't let what he said get to you, I know how he is and he was just trying to get under your skin. He's still mad at you for spray-painting his car."

She smirks and I'm beyond relieved that our serious conversation is over, "So, he told you, huh?"

"Who are you? Like, really. And twice?"

"Okay he's lying," she points a finger at me, "The second time it was paintballs."

"Where on earth did you get a paintball gun?"

"Puck."

I rest my chin on my palm and my elbow on the table, "Did you wear all black and put war paint on your face?"

"Actually…yeah. How did you know that?"

"That's so hot."

"Yeah well, _someone_ had to defend your honor."

"My hero," I sigh dramatically.

She winks, "Always babe"

The waitress walks out of the swinging doors with our tray of food and I don't come up for air until it's entirely devoured. It was _that_ good. Quinn needs to do my ordering from now on, she knew exactly what to get me.

We finish off the bottle of wine and idly chat about whatever crosses our minds as we wait for the check. Though, I mostly just inquire about her stealth mission to cover Jesse's car in paint. As much as I try to protest, Quinn claims that she _has_ to pay since this was an official date and all. I let her have it, something tells me that it made our dinner that much better for her.

Quinn hails a cab and ignores my face as she shoves me into the backseat with her. She downright refused to walk the forty or so blocks back to my apartment but she does allow us to stop five blocks away so we can have the cliché end-of-date movie walk that I demanded we have.

It just wouldn't have been a _real_ date if we didn't have one.

"So am I allowed to treat this as a real first date?"

She glances at me, suddenly I wish I wasn't wearing heals so that she'd be able to look down at me. There's something so familiar about gazing up to look in someone's eyes when you're walking with them.

She laughs and blows some hot air out of her mouth, I wonder if she's trying to make smoke rings again, "Sure."

"I'll have you know, I don't put out until _at least_ the 15th date."

"Oh, is that so?"

I tighten my grip around her lower bicep. She's deceptively strong.

"The last person I for real dated was Finn," I remind her, "And he didn't get any for over a year. I'm a girl with morals, Quinn Fabray, and I don't plan on selling myself short for your pretty eyes and panty dropping smile."

It would be funnier if I was serious. I guess the fact that we had sex in the shower earlier negates my moral code.

She chuckles, "Fair enough."

I hope this doesn't turn into her pretending to take this seriously and holding out on me until our 15th date. That shit will not fly.

I wish I lived in a brownstone only so that I would have steps that she could walk me up.

The doorman gets the door and Quinn follows me to the elevator.

"So, are you gonna _come up_?"

She laughs into my neck as soon as the doors slide close, "You're adorable."

"I don't know, what do people say at the end of a first date?"

"I normally say goodnight."

"You're kind of boring."

The elevator dings and we separate incase there is someone waiting on the other side. The coast is clear and I take her hand in mine as I tug her down the hallway and to my apartment door.

"No but seriously, you're coming in right?" I ask as I dig for my key in my clutch.

She shakes her head no, "Not tonight."

"You didn't enjoy our date?" I pout, she never refuses the pout.

"Well you see, I actually like you so I need to keep you coming back for more."

"Trust me when I say that will _never_ be a problem."

I push the key into the lock but I feel her step back so I turn around.

"So this is really goodnight?"

I was hoping she was just kidding about the whole _keep coming back for more_ thing.

"Why do you sound so surprised? I've never stayed over before," she reminds me.

As if I need reminding that she's always out of my apartment by 10:45 so she can catch the 11:02 subway back to Chelsea. Occasionally, I'll hide her cell phone and change the time on the clocks so she has to stay past midnight but that usually results in cranky Quinn because then she has to hail a cab at 2 in the morning.

"I know but—"

"For a self-proclaimed prude you sure do move fast."

"Very funny."

"I'll call you."

She steps closer and places a small kiss on my cheek. I sneak my hand up and tilt her chin towards me as she moves to pull away and connect our lips.

She attempts to resist me at first but I don't remove my hand from her chin and she finally gives in and kisses me back slowly.

The way she gives in so easily and the way I sigh into her mouth when she finally does is further proof that we are in _way _over our heads. How I fell for her and continue to fall for her is beyond all logic and I've given up trying to explain it. She was right so many weeks ago, I am afraid of commitments. But for some reason I'm not afraid of committing to her.

I hope she can feel it through our kiss.

When I pull away from her, her eyes are still closed and her lips still somewhat parted. She blinks a few times when she opens her eyes and I smile before placing another kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you for dinner."

"Anytime."

I laugh at her apparent daze and temporary loss of speech.

"Goodnight Quinn"

"Yeah, night."

I turn the doorknob and slip inside my dark apartment. I close the door softly and lean my back against it. I had to complete the movie cliché that was going on in my head. My grin is genuine as I continue to think about Quinn, I'd just been in front of her and I'm still giddy just thinking of her.

"Are you still out there?" I call through the door after a minute or two.

She clears her throat, "Goodnight Rachel."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

><p>"Open the damn door," I mutter under my breath.<p>

It's fucking freezing out here at this hour.

I buzz again and hold it down longer this time. She must seriously be a dead sleeper.

"Hello?" the raspy and sleepy voice filters through the speaker box outside of the apartment complex.

It would turn me on if my lower half wasn't numb.

"It's me," I state.

"Rach?"

I bite back any sarcastic comment that I'm dying to throw back at her and remind myself that it's not her fault it's cold out right now. She doesn't control the weather and she's made that very clear in the past.

"Yes."

"What are you doing here? It's like 3 in the morning."

Oh really? I wasn't aware.

"Open the damn door."

I hear a distinct noise and run to the door before the noise goes away.

I shuffle everything into the elevator and hit the button.

I couldn't sleep.

My date with Quinn went well and I think I was on that weird metaphoric cloud nine that everyone talks about being on sometimes. And then I started thinking of some of the things that we talked about at dinner.

Quinn needed a distraction.

Lauren was less than thrilled when I called her at eleven and told her that she had to go to a 24 hour pharmacy to get me some supplies.

She showed up an hour later with two pints of ice cream and half of the craft section from _Dwayne Reed_.

She refused to leave once I told her what I was doing. She wanted to see Rachel Berry in her high school element and I think I gave her quite a show. The three white boards were set up on top of the bed so that Lauren could easily write everything I told her as I transferred the good ideas to the colorful poster boards.

The glitter added a nice touch.

Quinn opens her door almost immediately. She looks adorable and I almost feel bad that I woke her up at such an hour.

Almost.

"So you _did_ steal my _NYU _sweatshirt?"

She looks down and attempts to cover it as if I'll forget about it if I don't see it. I'll admit, I use the same tactic but she can't pull a fast one on me. I've been onto her thievery since the morning I got back from Ohio and couldn't find my favorite navy blue sweatshirt amongst the suitcase of clothes.

She shakes her head, "What are you doing here?"

So she's trying to change the subject, huh?

I breeze by her and place a quick kiss on her lips, "I missed you."

She closes the door behind me, "I missed you too, is that the reason you're here?"

"Yes and no," I call over my shoulder as I walk down her hallway. Normally I take the time to appreciate the black and white vintage photos she has lining her walls but I'm in presentation mode and I mustn't lose focus.

She follows me into her bedroom and I turn a few more lights on. I throw my coat and scarf on the trunk at the end of her bed.

"Are you feeling okay?"

I point to the bed and she takes the hint and sits. She sits Indian style and I notice that she's wearing her signature grey shorts with the sweatshirt. It's like Ohio all over again.

"I was lying in bed and I started to come up with things that you could do with your life now that you're no longer prying into people's minds and then I thought of a lot so I needed to put them somewhere. And then I needed you to see them. And then I needed to see you, too. So here I am."

She smiles and gestures for me to show her what I've prepared. I must admit that I'm kind of surprised that she's not making fun of me for doing this. She's _happy_ that I'm at her place at three in the morning for my employment pitch which almost makes me wonder if she's been waiting for this type of invested interest from me since high school. Surely she heard about my intervention with Finn the summer he decided he didn't want to work. I changed that _real_ quick. Back then I only cared because I was afraid that college recruiters would find out that my boyfriend was lazy and it would have a negative impact on their decision to accept me but now I'm doing it because I want my girlfriend to be happy.

I pull the poster boards out from the bag and hold up the first one.

She squints her eyes before reaching over to her nightstand table for her brown framed glasses.

There are so many versions of Quinn and I don't know which my favorite is. Studious Quinn definitely is top five though.

"Oh. My. God."

I don't know if her reaction is good or bad because my mind went elsewhere so I begin my presentation.

"As you can see, I took the liberty of doing some research."

"_Some_ research? You could have written a book."

Witty Quinn is also top five.

"Yes well, if you'll recall, I used to be very thorough."

I wonder if she remembers my presentation on the correlation between singing and an increased life span senior year of high school.

"You didn't make Lauren do all of this, did you?"

I stomp my foot, why didn't I make her do the writing? Maybe I wouldn't have a hand cramp still. I hope it doesn't affect my future _activities_.

Who am I kidding? I'm ambidextrous when it comes to pleasing Quinn.

"Nope. A Rachel Berry original." I beam.

I was quite proud of the fact that I still had it.

"This is what you've been doing all night?"

I nod and show her another poster board, "Do you like my flowchart?"

She studies it, "The glitter _does _make it pop a bit."

I said the same thing.

"So let me get this straight," she starts.

I bite my tongue at any straight or gay joke I could make and wait for her to wrap her head around it.

"You made a bunch of poster boards of career options for me?"

"Indeed."

"Pros and cons, flowcharts, graphs?"

I drop the next poster board, "And anticipated timelines."

"Okay one, I'm not training for the marathon. Two, I'm not going to be a cheerleading coach for a public school in the city. Three, I'm not getting my teaching degree in Psychology. Oh my god, Rachel! I am _not_ getting pregnant again!"

"Yet?"

I don't know what made me ask that but now I need to know. It's quite bold.

"Yet," she sighs, "Sweetheart, come here." She pats the bed.

"You didn't even read my footnotes," I complain as I drop the boards on the floor and walk towards her on the bed.

"I'll read them later, I promise. Rachel, I appreciate all of this but it wasn't really necessary."

"But you need a distraction. I don't want you to be sad anymore."

"Is that what you think?"

"Well I did until you responded like that."

She smiles and brushes a few of my bangs out of my eyes, "I'm not sad at all. I'm the opposite of sad."

She sounds pretty convincing and I want to believe her but she could just be a really good actress.

"It's my fault that you don't have a job and I just thought I'd help you get a new one."

"How many times have we been over this? This isn't your fault."

It's so my fault but she's right, we've been over this about a thousand times. It's pointless to argue with her on this detail because she'll never budge. Instead, I'll pout and continue to sound innocent and childish as I try to convince her to let me help.

"Let me make this right."

"There's nothing to make right."

"You could go back to school, I mean you're already brilliant so it wouldn't take you long to get another masters in something. Like in advertising or PR, there are millions of agencies in the city. Oh my god, you could be my Publicist!"

Sometimes I shock myself with how amazing I can be. Like, I'm seriously dripping with awesome ideas.

"Rach, no."

"Why! I'll be throwing mine off of the Crystler building soon so I'll need a new one. Please, please Quinn, please."

"Don't even puppy dog me," she averts her eyes and moves her head when I try to make eye contact again, "I love you but I'm not becoming your publicist."

"If you loved me then you would become my publicist."

"Oh don't _even_ pull that card."

"But it would be perfect, you'd be such a good publicist! And we'd be together all the time, and—"

"And you'd get sick of me. And you'd be going from sleeping with your therapist to sleeping with your publicist. I don't think that's smart thinking."

She needs to leave the smart thinking to me.

"But as my publicist you could issue press releases that deny all rumors and allegations! It would be perfect! C'mon!"

"No Rach, just no. Psychology found its way to me and I'm positive that something else will find me."

She wants to reject my idea? I'm going to be stubborn about it.

"You're going to run out of money."

"Look at me, I'm twenty seven and I had my own office. I don't think you need to worry about me running out of money, I made quite a lucrative practice for myself."

Naturally.

I'd be a fool to think that Quinn Fabray wouldn't get exactly what she wanted out of life.

"You're probably still paying off student loans."

"My parents already paid them."

I've never hated Russell Fabray more than I do now.

"Your apartment."

She pulls my arm until I'm sitting on her lap, I drape my arms over the back of her shoulders.

"Isn't as much compared to what I made. Besides, I've had a single person's mentality for quite a while and I don't survive on much. I'll be fine."

"Well now you have an expensive girlfriend."

Not that I would _ever_ make her buy me things.

"I can handle it, Rach. My father is an investment banker and my mom is an accountant. I know how to take care of money. Half of it is already invested or in CDs."

Her hand has made its way under my long sleeved shirt and she's writing random letters across my lower back. They might not be random but I'm still too deep in thought to string them together. There must be _some_ non-arguable point that I can make to convince her to be my publicist. This is turning into being about me. I got the thought in my head and now it won't go away.

She nudges my chin with her nose and I give her a kiss before resting my forehead on hers.

"Are you sure you don't want to be my publicist?"

She laughs softly and I feel it more than I hear it, "I'm sure."

I pout, only because now I'm back to the drawing board on the whole operation eliminate publicist thing.

She lifts me off of her and takes off her eyeglasses. I take this as my cue.

"Okay, so I guess since you vetoed my ideas, I'll be going."

Her confused face smoothes out as she points a white remote in the air. The room envelops us in darkness.

"You're not leaving."

Quinn's arms circle around my waist tightly and she pulls me back until I'm lying next to her.

"Are you sure? I mean we _just _had our first date."

She laughs into my neck before punctuating it with a kiss, I hope she can't feel how fast my pulse is going. It's almost embarrassing.

"I want to wake up next to you."

Somewhere in the world someone is trying to telepathically communicate to me that this is a bad idea. I wonder if Lauren knows. I'm sure she does. I wouldn't be surprised if she had Quinn's apartment under surveillance, too.

"If we wake up next to each other don't you think we're going to want to do that every morning?"

It took me at least a week of moping around to get over what it felt like to not have Quinn next to me after we got home from Ohio.

"That's a possibility."

"Are you ready for that?"

"I'll sleep on the couch then. I just don't want you out in the city by yourself at this hour," she offers and I panic.

I tighten my grip around her hip.

"Stay."

"I know we haven't _slept_ together yet. I mean, actually just slept next to each other, but if it's too fast then I don't want you uncomfortable."

As if. The only reason I never _slept_ with my faceless conquests was because they weren't what I wanted. Quinn, on the other hand, is everything that I want.

"I'm not uncomfortable, I've wanted you to stay over every night for the past two months. You're the one that gives me an excuse."

If I didn't know any better I'd think she didn't like me very much.

"Well that's because I didn't want to scare you. Waking up next to someone is a big step in a relationship and I didn't want to pressure you. Sometimes it's a bigger step that actually having sex, which is our situation—"

I shake my head, she has the ability to talk in circles for hours, "You're being a therapist, I need you to tell me you want me. Demand something of me."

"You know I want you. All the time."

She latches her lips to mine and I'm momentarily caught off guard due to the darkness but I feel her everywhere. She's surrounding me in every way possible, I grip her neck and hold her in place. She hisses against my mouth when she tries to pull away and I don't let her. She breaks free and the look on her face is pure need. She lifts the navy blue sweatshirt over her head in a way I can appreciate and rolls her bare upper body back into me, snagging my lips on her path. Her fingers roughly slide under my shirt and her nails drag across my abdomen before I feel her circle around my back. I'm arched off the bed and pulled into her, she sucks violently at my neck, I can feel the hickey forming as I let out a small cry into the thick air. My nails dig into the back of her shoulders in an attempt to bring her closer to me. I _need_ her closer to me. She pushes me back while still keeping a firm hold on me and I feel a breeze hit my body. She tosses my shirt behind her as if it has no purpose being in the world and brings her lips to my clavicle and places open mouthed and sloppy kisses across my skin.

"Tell me you want me," I whisper harshly against her cheek as she lays me back down.

"Words are words. Don't you want to feel it?"

She continues to assault my chest as her palm moves down the side of my body, she drags my yoga pants down as both her body and lips simultaneously move lower. My body thrashes off the bed just in an attempt to feel her, her palms press down on my stomach and it creates an electric stir of emotions that rocket through my body and escape through my mouth as a moan.

I'm growing impatient as she fumbles at the end of the bed, she takes her time working back up my body, placing small kisses on my calves as she travels toward the one place I need her the most.

Her hand covers mine and I feel it drag down my body. My eyes slam shut and my lips part to allow better breathing access, I could pass out from the anticipation of her touch.

I'm dizzy as I feel my fingers engulfed in wetness, and I nearly come when I realize that it's not mine. She's entered me into her.

"Oh God."

My eyes are still closed as I try to imagine what she looks like hovering above me, it's entirely pitch black except for the light from the hallway that's filtering under the closed door.

"This is what you do to me."

It's hoarse and thick and doing wonders to my body. She's not even touching me intimately and I'm ready to come undone.

My fingers are coated in desire and I'm having trouble swallowing the fact that _I _am the cause of it. She doesn't let me appreciate her like the way I want to right now and I feel her moving my hand once again. It's not until I feel my fingers hesitantly move against my own lips that I realize what she's doing. My tongue peeks out from behind my lips and hits the wall of my fingers, I moan as I'm met with her taste. It's addictive and I don't wait for her urging to take both fingers into my mouth, not being able to help myself when presented with the opportunity to savor her.

I finally open my eyes and I'm speechless as I see her eyes watching me with hooded lids, licking her own lips as if she's mimicking me involuntarily. I throw my now clean hand around her back and force her down into me, she moans loudly as her tongue runs into mine. She's absolutely turned on when she tastes herself on me and the wetness I feel covering my bare thigh is all the proof I need that she's ready.

She stills my hand once she realizes its destination.

"Not tonight," She whispers before bringing my hand up and kissing my palm.

She throws my arm over her shoulder and I grasp at her skin with white knuckles as I feel her own hand traveling down.

"Let me worship you."

I bite my lip hard in order to save myself from losing all control, "I need to touch you."

She runs the tip of her nose across my collar bone and nuzzles into my neck for a few seconds, "Tomorrow morning, after I make you breakfast." She says against my once again parted lips.

A strangled moan erupts from my throat as I hear her words and feel her fingers finally enter me at the same time.

"Oh my— fuck," I shiver beneath her, "Your fingers are freezing."

"Warm them up for me?"

* * *

><p>I'll never understand how she can be so calm about things.<p>

Even in high school, she took everything that was thrown at her in stride, with the utmost elegance and grace. She had her moments, we all did, but she's eerily serene almost all the time now and I still don't understand it.

Like, now for instance. How can she just continue humming some song under her breath while she stirs the pasta sauce as if this night is just like any other night?

I'm basically on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I've been staring at the clock for so long that when I look away I still see the clock face everywhere, as if it's permanently etched into my mind.

Thank god I don't bite my nails when I'm nervous, my nail lady would gasp in horror at the damage I could easily do to them.

"He'll show," she says, not taking her eyes off the stove.

She's actually wearing the apron that I requested she wear. She pretty much made the entire meal, too. I've just been leaning up against the counter next to her switching between watching her and watching the clock.

I keep going back and forth on whether or not I want Jesse to show up. On one hand, I want him to come so that he will give Quinn a chance. On the other hand, I don't want him to come because I don't feel like getting another headache from his petty whining.

Lauren enjoyed the white boards that we purchased last week and she's been keeping track of my pro/con list. I decided to keep the invitation extended to him even though the con list was much longer than the pro list. It's only because Quinn thinks that this is a good idea.

Damn her and her persuasion.

Quinn knows that now I'm nervous he's _not _going to show because he doesn't approve of us. It's what I was afraid of all along.

She puts down the wooden spoon, wipes her hands on the front of the apron, and turns to look at me. Her hands give me a quick massage.

"Are we allowed to be ourselves?" I ask.

"That's up to you."

I nod and she kisses my forehead. There's a strong knock on the door and I know it's him. Few people have full permission to come right up without having to stop at the security desk. Jesse, Lauren, and now Quinn.

Quinn whispers good luck into my ear and urges me towards the door. I inhale deeply and on my exhale I pull the door open before I chicken out.

His generic smirk is in place as I gesture for him to come inside. He gives me a kiss as he hands me a bottle of wine.

"I've missed you," he says as I close the door behind him.

I haven't spoken to him since leaving the restaurant after he upset me.

He looks so innocent and childlike that it's hard to remember what I was even mad at him for. I wrap my arms around him and pull him into another hug, "I missed you too, Jess."

I squeal as he lifts me off the ground and spins me around briefly, "I'm sorry I acted like a jackass."

He sets me down, "Start over tonight?"

He nods and takes his coat and scarf off. I take it from him and walk into the kitchen where Quinn is stirring the pasta in the boiling water.

We started with the basics tonight.

I place the bottle of wine next to her and give her a kiss on the cheek. She ducks her head but she has a smile on her face. When I get back from throwing his coat on my bed, Jesse is opening the bottle of wine and Quinn is supplying him with wine glasses.

So far, so good.

"Dinner is almost done," Quinn tells us as she gestures towards the living room.

"New couch, Rach? I like it." He sits in the middle of it and sets his wine glass on the coffee table.

Quinn and I share a secret smile as I sit in the matching armchair I picked out in order to give the living room some better symmetry. She takes a seat on the armrest of my chair and rests her arm over the back. I lean back into her for some extra reassurance and I feel her fingers start to lightly massage the back of my neck.

I nod and he reaches forward to take another sip of wine as all three of us struggle to come up with a topic for conversation. It shouldn't be this awkward.

"So Quinn, how is the therapy world?"

I know this is his way of avoiding a straight apology to her but at least he's engaging her in the conversation so I'll have to settle.

"Actually Jess," I glance up at Quinn to find her looking down at me, "Quinn has decided to change her career path."

"Oh?" I knew this would peak his interest. He's so damn predictable. "What is it that you're doing now?" he directs towards her.

"Well, I haven't really decided yet."

"Surely you have some kind of plan?"

I stifle my laugh as Quinn shakes her head in amusement. I wonder if she also feels like she's being interviewed by an over protective father before a first date.

"I see."

"What?" I ask.

I know he's dying to make choice comments about how he can't believe I'm not having anxiety attacks about being with someone that doesn't have a plan and at least three back up plans but he instead opts to take another sip of his wine. Besides, I already had my slight anxiety attack about Quinn's career options and it was rather unnecessary. Maybe I've had a plan for so long that it's okay if I'm with someone that makes me want to go off course a bit.

"Nothing," He replies and we fall into another silence.

Quinn squeezes my neck as the timer beeps on the stove and gets up off the arm of the chair to drain the pasta.

"You're being weird," I whisper to him once Quinn is out of earshot.

"You're the one being weird!" he hushes out, "She's unemployed!"

He makes it seem like she's been homeless for her entire life.

"Because she couldn't consciously continue as a therapist!"

Okay so maybe those were Quinn's words but he doesn't need to know that.

"Well that's what she gets for sleeping with a patient."

"Don't you call me one of the crazies!"

"You're acting like one!" he whispers hastily.

"Dinner's ready," Quinn calls from the other room.

I point a finger at him, "Not another word about her job, do you hear me?"

He rolls his eyes and stands up with his wine, "Fine."

"You're such a baby," I narrow my eyes at the back of his head as we approach the table.

I sit next to Quinn and Jesse sits across from us. I'm still shooting daggers at him as he unfolds his napkin and tucks it into the collar of his shirt. If only looks could kill.

"It smells really good, Quinn. Perhaps a career in culinary arts?"

I kick Jesse's shin under the table with the point of my heel and he grunts. Quinn stifles her laugh next to me as I place the napkin on my lap and smooth it out nicely. I flash him a wide smile as he finishes spooning the pasta on his plate. Quinn receives the bowl and starts to pile the pasta on my plate until I feel that it's an appropriate amount and then she gives herself some. She notices that I left my wine glass on one of the tables in the other room at about the same time I realize it and she's up before I can tell her to sit.

"Thank you," I reward her by leaning over and giving her a small kiss on her cheek as she sits back down.

"Wow, Fabray this is good," He says with a mouth full of food. Repulsing.

I honestly can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. I mean, it's just pasta and marinara, what's so good about that?

"Holy shit," I suck in some cool air after I swallow, I misjudged the hotness, "This is amazing."

Okay, so I was wrong. Whatever she did with that sauce, I could kiss my fingertips.

"It's probably the only useful thing I learned from my mother in the kitchen," She comments before taking a bite as well.

I'm literally orgasming in my mouth with each bite, this woman is incredible. I moan in _and_ out of the bedroom because of her.

Jesse's going for thirds and tries to babble out a lame excuse about not having eaten all day. I know he just doesn't want to admit that Quinn's cooking is _that_ good because I know for a fact that he eats at least four meals a day or he's crankier than a toddler that's teething. I, on the other hand, haven't eaten all day out of nerves and I was still able to reduce myself to a helping and a half. I need to save room for dessert. Both _desserts_, if you will.

Conversation surprisingly isn't forced or uncomfortable for the first time that the three of us are together, at least when there isn't food in one of our mouths. I'm pretty sure it's because the marinara sauce is magical.

I turn to the sound of Quinn's laughter to my right and she laughs harder. I have absolutely no idea what is so funny but I'm seconds away from a hissy fit until I find out.

Quinn simply reaches over and her thumb brushes the corner of my mouth before she shows me the small bit of marinara sauce that I guess made its way there sometime during dinner. She licks her thumb and turns back to answer the question that Jesse just asked her.

I enjoy the nights that I get to have dinner with Quinn. She tends to take care of me and it's not the hell I used to imagine. In fact, it's kind of like where I imagined myself at this age in high school. Established career, stylish decorated apartment, amazing wardrobe, reliable staff at my beck and call, and a significant other that I was entirely smitten with. So it's a girl instead of a boy, who am I to be nitpicky? Well, I guess I also never imagined Jesse in those scenarios after we broke up, but I'm kind of glad that he's here. Especially when I hear both him and Quinn sharing a laugh.

Wait, what?

I zone back into the conversation as Quinn tells him about the time she got off at the wrong _Penn Station_ when she was coming back from Noah's apartment in Jersey and ended up in Newark. Jesse hasn't laughed like that in a while and I'd be jealous if it wasn't Quinn that was making him laugh. I count my blessings and consider it another small victory. This night had such potential to either end in tears or at the police station.

Quinn reaches forward and takes another sip of wine while Jesse tells her about the time he cursed off Joan Rivers, nearly choking as she finds something he says funny. She pats her chest, puts her arm back around my shoulders, and leans back in her chair. I lean into her a bit as I listen to the story for the twentieth time, not to mention that I was there when this all happened. And I don't point out any of Jesse's embellishments or exaggerations because his eyes are sparkling with excitement as he retells his tale. It may just be because Quinn seems to be the most intrigued by his stories but I think she's a really good actress when she needs to be.

Jesse's story has finished and he's smiling at me with that older brother smile that sometimes creeps me out.

"What?"

He shakes his head and reaches for more wine, he's already redfaced and giggly as he smiles away. It could just be my eyes playing tricks on me but I'm pretty sure his grin gets bigger as Quinn leans down and presses a kiss to my temple.

"Rach, Grammys are next month, you haven't even told me who you're wearing."

Instant panic sets in, how could I have overlooked that minor detail? The Grammys are my Oscars, and I'm even presenting, how could I have neglected to find a dress?

"Oh my god," I sit up straight, "I haven't even looked."

Quinn laughs next to me, "You're wearing something of Kurt's remember?"

I feel instantly lighter as I realize that she's 100% right. She's so smart.

"Oh thank god, I completely forgot."

"That reminds me, Lauren said that Kurt called and he asked you to stop by the store to try on some of the options."

"Wonderful," I turn to Jesse with another sigh, "I'm wearing Kurt Hummel."

"Bold move," he takes another sip of wine, "Well I'm sure it will be good for his business."

I nod as well and Quinn continues to massage the back of my neck when I lean back in the chair.

"Speaking of the Grammys, since I can see how disgustingly cute you guys are with each other, I was thinking that you could take my spot as Rachel's date, Quinn."

I know that he came over here earlier still thinking that this was one big practical joke on him. At least he's finally understanding that I'm not messing around.

"Is that allowed?" Quinn asks hesitantly.

"Sure it is, I'm nominated, I can do whatever I want."

So conceited. He rarely passes up an opportunity to rub it in my face that he's nominated. He treats everything as a friendly competition sans the friendly part.

"He has his own invite and a plus one but we tend to be each other's dates. It's good press."

"We're a pretty big deal in the music world, Quinn. People love our friendship and they're convinced we're dating. Did you know that there are dozens of forums and blogs devoted to us? It's pretty wild."

I cut in when I feel Quinn's massaging halt, "The point? I'd advise you to make it."

Whether he really has a point or he just wants to up the pressure for Quinn, I'm not sure. I don't like that he's trying to make her place in my life less significant.

"No point. Just wanted her to know."

Naturally.

"That's really nice, Jesse," Quinn forces out as politely as possible.

I wonder what temperature her body needs to be before her blood starts boiling. I wonder if she's close.

"Rach, you've known me for years. I'm only making it hard because it's who I am. Please just take Quinn in my place."

I sigh, "You're really okay with this?" I ask just to make sure.

Sometimes he says things but doesn't mean them.

"Of course, it may just be the wine talking but I think it's a good idea."

I think it's the wine talking but I know what this is, this is his way of telling us that he gives his approval.

"I don't know what to say."

"You're acting like I just proposed, calm down. Just take your girlfriend to the Grammys," He replies.

"Do you want to go?" I look up towards Quinn.

She looks back and forth between the two of us with hesitant eyes and bites her lip before smiling.

"Of course," She answers softly, I lean up and give her a kiss.

Jesse clears his throat and I pull away shyly before shooting him a glare.

"Excuse me," I announce and pull away from the table, "There are some matters that I need to tend to."

Quinn corrects her posture, "Are you okay?"

I smooth down my shirt, "Oh yeah," I wave off, "I just need to call Daddy and let him know that you're my date."

I crack a smile as Quinn's eyebrow raises, I just straight up ignore Jesse's eye roll.

"So is it safe to assume that this is something you've discussed with him?"

I should feel guilty but I'm not, "He's been hounding me for a while to take you as my date but I didn't want to offend Jesse," I sneer at him for good measure, "or pressure you," I finish sweetly, "so if you'll excuse me, I have some phone calls to make."

"_Some?"_ I hear Jesse ask but I ignore him and trot further down the hall and into my bedroom. I should be concerned about leaving the two of them alone but they've behaved themselves quite nicely tonight.

Daddy is simply thrilled as I tell him the news and I'm sure both Jesse and Quinn can hear my squeal as we talk about it. It's so nice and I'm feeling a bit nostalgic to be giddily talking with my father like I'm a teenager again. I can't believe that I went so long without him in my life like this after my other father passed away. It almost feels like I'm talking about prom. I disregard Lauren's exasperated tone as I tell her, she's been on the receiving end of my indecision for a few weeks. How soon is too soon? Quinn and I are ready for this, right? Right. Regardless, I'm excited enough to do cartwheels so I'm not about to ruin my mood by wondering.

I sit at the edge of my bed with my phone in hand, just relishing in the calm before the storm. My only hesitation about bringing Quinn is the unavoidable press we'll receive. She's been a champ throughout everything we've been through together, I'm just afraid that I'm going to scare her off once she sees Rachel Berry in her prime element. I've been relatively under the radar since seeing her again, it's only going to get crazier when I start doing my job again.

I throw my phone behind me and it lands on the plush comforter as I stand and tousle my hair in the mirror. I quietly walk down the hall. I've never been one to spy but, okay who am I kidding, I'm _totally _one to spy.

"I still don't like you Fabray," Jesse's voice cuts through the apartment softly.

He knows as well as anyone that I'm never one to pass up a chance to eavesdrop when people are talking about me. I'm a masochist when I really shouldn't be. People love to talk about me but I just can't pass up the opportunity to hear two of the people I care about most talking about me in private.

She chuckles humorlessly, "And honestly, you're not my favorite person, either."

"So we have a mutual understanding?"

"Rachel is my number one priority," Quinn replies.

My heart swells at the mention of my name coming from her lips as she speaks to someone else. I know she hasn't told any of her friends about us, the only people that know are my assistant, my driver, and Jesse.

"And as you know, she has no siblings."

"Really?"

Nice one.

"Sarcasm aside, she has no one to look out for her besides myself, I think you know what I'm getting at?"

"You can save your threats, St. James. You'll never have to follow through with them."

"You sound awfully confident."

"That's because I am."

Of course she is! She's Quinn Fabray. You tell 'em.

"She's fragile, just don't hurt her again."

I should be offended that he treats me like a porcelain doll but it's kind of endearing I guess.

"The same goes for you," Quinn replies.

"So we both agree, we'll remain civil? We'll forget the past?"

"You're the one that has trouble letting go of the past."

I really do love this woman. Even if I've only told her once, there's no doubt in my mind that she's it for me.

"Right well, I'm working on it. You have everyone eating out of the palm of your hand but just remember that I'm not as easily fooled. And so help me, if I find out you have other intentions, I'll come after you with everything I have, do you hear me?"

"Oh I hear you, now it's your turn to listen to me. Rachel means the world to me. My _only_ intention is to be who she needs me to be, and I have _no_ problem spending the rest of my life with her. I don't scare easily and over my dead body will I let harm come to her. I may be different now but I have no problem kicking your pretty little face in if you upset Rachel in any way. Rachel's been dying for me to show my old self and I'm praying for you to give me a reason, St. James."

I take it back, loving her doesn't seem enough anymore.

"You know what? I think we actually might get along just fine, Fabray. But I still hate you."

"Likewise."

"But we can both agree to protect Rach?"

"Of course."

"Then welcome to our dysfunctional family."

I choose this moment to announce myself back into the room, and they both don't seem too startled to see me but they don't exactly look entirely comfortable either.

"Sorry about that, what were you guys talking about?" I ask as I take my seat next to Quinn who immediately welcomes me with a kiss.

"Nothing too important, just some business," Jesse answers before raising his glass, "A toast to the two of you?"

I look at him weirdly but don't let off that I heard their entire conversation. I lift my glass and clink it to the other two before taking a long and healthy sip.

It's an hour before Jesse exaggerates his yawn and announces that it's time for him to leave. To be honest, I'm kind of happy. I enjoyed his company but I can't wait to get onto that couch with Quinn.

"That wasn't the train wreck I imagined," I say after we've finished cleaning off the table and loading the dishwasher, "Did Jesse behave himself while I was in the other room?" I ask, hopefully coyly.

Quinn wipes her hands on the dishtowel and smirks, "I know that you were listening."

I drop my jaw open in faux shock, "I don't have the faintest idea of what you're talking about!"

She laughs and takes the few steps towards me before she wraps her arms around me, "You're a beautiful liar, you know that?"

"Well what do you expect?"

"Nothing less."

"So you're not mad at me for eavesdropping?"

She laughs, "Why would I be mad? You should be mad at me for threatening him."

"Are you kidding me? That was so hot! I love when the fire and passion comes out," I lean up and give her a lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth as her fingers slip under the back of my shirt, "And for the record, he was being an ass again so you had every right."

She pulls away and leads me over to the living room. She sits down first and pulls me sloppily on top of her so that I curl into her side. Her arms circle around me protectively and she places a few kisses on the top of my head before her fingers start mindlessly playing through my hair.

"You're worried about the Grammys, aren't you?"

"A little."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," I offer as I begin playing with her cross necklace to keep myself occupied.

"Of course I want to be there, I'm just worried about the press you'll get."

"Well you can stay back with Lauren on the carpet if you don't want to stand with me during interviews, and I'm not nominated this year so it's not like they'll see me jump into your arms if I were to win, you know?"

"I meant to ask, why _aren't_ you nominated?"

"My new album doesn't come out until the summer."

"But you're performing _and_ presenting?"

"I'm presenting Album of the Year and performing the first single off the album. So there's a faint chance that they'll pan to you during my performance but they'll be too worried about the nominees to find you when I present."

"You've given this some thought, huh?"

"Lauren and I worked out the details last week."

"What will I wear?"

"I'm sure Kurt will be thrilled to make you a dress."

* * *

><p>"Are you serious?"<p>

"Shouldn't you be happy?"

"Under normal circumstances I would be, but I've been guilted into taking care of Crystal's bridal party and your dress for the Grammys needs to be absolutely perfect, and Antonio and I have parted ways and my backer has pulled out. I'm on the verge of a very serious episode that would make a Desperate Housewife with a midlife crisis scared of me. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

I'd take his nervous breakdown more seriously if he didn't always speak like this. In high school, he could make studying for a test a life or death situation. So no, I don't really grasp what he's saying to me.

Quinn seems to have zeroed in on something that I really didn't catch in his high pitched rant, "Crystal's bridal party? Crystal as in—"

"Crystal as in Puck's trashy girlfriend, excuse me, Fiancée. No, wait for it…wife."

"Wife?" we both exclaim at the same time.

I'm surely dreaming.

Though, it does sound like Puckerman to do something stupid like that. He never was bright.

"Oh yeah, haven't you heard?" Clearly not Kurt. "Him and _Crys_ eloped to Atlantic City and got married."

"Did you know about this?" I turn to Quinn who also looks just as shocked.

She runs her palm over her forehead as she thinks, "He called me last week but I didn't think it was anything important."

"Yes well, Puck happened to tell his beautiful new wife that I would provide my services free of charge for a late May wedding."

Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't they already married?

"If they've already gotten married, why do they need you?"

Thank you for reading my mind and voicing my thoughts for me, Quinn.

"His mom nearly fainted when he told her, and apparently Crystal's parents will only give them a honeymoon if they have a traditional wedding."

"They're getting married again?"

"I hear Lima's nice that time of year."

Well fuck me.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Wish I was Darling but it's true and it's going to send me to an early grave. Turn around," Kurt commands with pins in his mouth.

I allow Kurt to work his magic as Quinn explains to Lauren who Noah Puckerman is and why it's so like him to completely pull something like this.

Once he's finished, he turns around to glance at Quinn, "I might have a few already in your size that wouldn't need too much altering, it just wouldn't be custom made for you, is that a problem?"

I knew Kurt would come through. Pass up the chance to have _two _of his dresses on the red carpet at the Grammys? Never.

"Not at all."

"Right. Stay here, I'll go throw some options together."

I study myself in the mirror, it's only the 3rd dress that I've tried on but I'm kind of in love with it. Champagne isn't normally my go-to color but it sparkles and who doesn't love when things sparkle? I give Quinn a spin and she smiles.

"What do you think?"

"It looks great on you, Miss Berry," My stylist speaks up, "We can do a bold smoky palate for your eyes and the hair possibilities are endless with this dress."

Well her input wasn't really the one I wanted but it's been noted. Doesn't she know that Quinn is the only person I care about?

"Quinn?"

She bites her lip and nods her head, "Definitely the one."

"Oh good, because I'm in love with it," I breathe out before turning to face the mirror.

"Are you going to shorten it at all?" Lauren asks.

"I don't know, what do you guys think?"

"I know you haven't worn floor length in a while but this works with your height, and your outfit for the performance is exposing so it's a good contrast."

"I agree," Lauren speaks up.

"Settled," I smile into the mirror before connecting eyes with Quinn in her chair behind me, "Will you guys excuse me and Quinn for a moment?"

Both Lauren and my stylist wander into the main area of the boutique. Quinn keeps her eyes on me for a few seconds before she stands and slowly approaches me from behind. I feel her cool hands run from the top of my bare shoulders down to my forearms and I lean back into her. She places a small kiss on my open neck and looks at me in the mirror.

"You look incredible," she breathes out.

"You're just saying that."

"Well I need to tell you now because I have a feeling that I'll be speechless on the actual night."

I turn around in her arms and pull her closer to me by her neck, her forehead rests on mine. Her eyes are full of mirth and the corners of her lips are beginning to form a smile. She moves a few inches closer and my lips connect with hers. It's the first time we're kissing in public and it feels amazing, it's scary and exhilarating, like anyone could walk in at any moment.

"I knew it," Kurt announces as he glides into the room with a small rack full of dresses.

We jump apart at the intrusion and I find myself wiping my lips, as if it wouldn't make me look ten times guiltier.

"We can explain," I begin.

"Not necessary, you can tell me all about it over dinner one night after I'm done with everything on my plate," he halts and spins around to survey the both of us, Quinn's yet to move away and it feels almost better than the kiss itself, "That the dress?" he asks.

"This is the one," Quinn says.

"Good, I was hoping you'd pick that one, and because I have _such_ the keen eye, I have the perfect dress for you Quinn. It will compliment her nicely."

I smile up at Quinn as Kurt sifts through the few dresses and produces the one he's referring to. I can already tell by the dark blue color that we're going to look smokin' together on the carpet.

Not that we don't already look smokin' as it is.

"For the record, I've been waiting for this day since senior year of high school."

I study my backside in the mirror some more, "What? Having a celebrity wear one of your dresses? I do look damn good, right Quinn?"

"Beautiful."

Kurt hums, "I was talking about you and Quinn. Seeing you two together, finally seeing Quinn happy."


	5. Chapter 5

"Anything else, Miss Berry?"

"That will be all."

Quinn called me earlier and told me to meet her at her old office, which is why I'm at her favorite sandwich place on Sixth so I can pick her up some lunch. We've barely seen each other all week, she's been in her office and I've been in the recording studio. I must say, I've missed the whole collaborative effort behind making an album, it's fun to get my hands dirty, so to speak.

I throw the sandwich to my driver and he doesn't even need to ask me where it is that we're going next. We pull up to the curb at Quinn's office building and even though I haven't been here in a month or so, it still has an overwhelming sense of familiarity. I've missed it, and I'm glad that Quinn has decided not to sell it. I kind of miss Erin, she was so pleasantly content at her little receptionist's desk, day in and day out, without a care in the world. Bless her soul.

Quinn's office door is ajar and she's on the phone with someone. She smiles at me when I enter and I take a seat on her tan couch that has _yet_ to be broken in. I set up her sandwich and snacks quite nicely and I wait patiently until she's done tending to whatever it is that she's doing. I'm such the Suzy Homemaker.

"Sorry about that," Quinn apologizes as she gets up from her seat and walks over to the couch, "God, I've missed you." She tells me after she gives me a kiss.

It's weird how much I've missed her but I haven't realized it until right now, as I'm sitting next to her. How did I survive the last two days without seeing her? Never again.

"I brought you some lunch," I grin wide, I'm so proud of myself.

"I see that," she picks up her sandwich and I hear her stomach grumble a bit, "But I need to talk to you first."

"Oh good!" I sit up straighter, "I have news for you too! But you first, you first."

"Remember last week when we were at Kurt's and he was so flustered about his backer pulling out, and his partner leaving, and he didn't know how he'd be able to pay for a lot of the things and he'd have to fire someone off his already small staff, and—"

"You're rambling."

It's a nice change of pace and I find it adorable but I'm impatient and can't wait to tell her my news. Actually, I don't think she's going to like my news too much so maybe it's better that she keeps talking.

"Right, well I was thinking… I need something to do and I _do_ have a bunch of money that I'm not using, and I'd be helping out a friend, and it's a sure investment and the return I would get is probably going to be through the roof, so if it works out I could take it further, and—"

"You need to get to the point."

It's not that I'm bored, it's that she's almost making me dizzy by how fast her lips are moving. The last time I saw her _this_ wide-eyed and manic was in high school during her prom queen campaign of terror. I shake off the chills I get and try to focus.

"I'm going to financially invest in Kurt's boutique."

"That's allowed?"

I never paid attention in my business classes in College. How could I? It was a waste of valuable rehearsal time and I resented them. I always claimed that someone else would handle those aspects of my life for me. I was right, at least.

"Of course, it's a private investment."

"So you just like give him money and that's it?"

She tilts her head back and forth and I know that she's dying to make me understand, but bless her heart for knowing that it will never happen, "Well it's slightly more complicated than that but you have the right idea. He needs money to continue building his business and this is the perfect opportunity for me to learn the basics, especially because he's about to take off after people see you in one of his original designs, he needs more manpower and I can help him get it. It's the perfect time to strike."

This is so not what I was expecting when she told me she had news.

"This is something you want to do?"

Quinn always made it perfectly clear in high school that she would go into something boring like real estate. Imagine my surprise when she showed up as my therapist, eight years later, and now my surprise as she's telling me she wants to hand her money over to help someone that I never thought she'd be friends with. The universe has a funny way of laughing in your face, I've grown to realize that, but it doesn't mean I accept it right away.

"I've never given it much thought because it's what my dad wanted me to grow up to be but this is different, it feels different anyway. And I might be good at it, who knows. It's something to try right?"

"I feel like you're good at everything you do."

"Says the winner of every award out there."

Seriously, bless her heart.

"I don't have my Oscar yet."

"One day."

I find myself unable to stop the smile from stinging my cheeks. Why is she so perfect?

She continues, "The point is, I've been giving it some serious thought and I want to do this."

I survey her more closely. Her eyes are wide and desperately trying to communicate to me that this is something she wants to do. Her thumbs are caressing my knuckles as she holds my hands so that I'll give her my undivided attention. Though, her methods are questionable because how _could_ I pay attention when I have her massaging my hands? She's slightly biting her lower lip in anticipation and her eyes brows are raising in such a childlike way. Like she's asking her parents if she can go to the park after dinner, or begging them to let her have a sleepover on a school night. I _have_ been looking for employment options for her, just in case she calls on me to make her another presentation, but this is right in front of us and requires no research on my part.

How can I say no to that face?

"Well you seem pretty excited about it."

"I am! It's like a whole new world, I'd be behind the scenes and that's perfect for me. I'd be involved in some decisions and meetings but Kurt would still be doing most of the work. I already have an office that I can work from," she gestures around, "We can re-decorate if you want," this sounds awfully like a form of hush money or a bribe, "maybe pick out a nice long table for meetings? Who knows what will come of this but it's fun not knowing!"

"How many _Red Bulls_ have you had?"

"Two…five, besides the point," she rolls her eyes and squeezes my hands, "I haven't told you sooner because I wanted to finalize everything first. Please tell me that you're okay with this, I didn't mean to keep you in the dark or anything."

I _could_ milk this and pretend I'm upset just for the sake of doing it.

"Of course, I'm fine with it. I've never seen you talk so passionately about something before."

"I talk about you this passionately."

"When do you ever talk about me to other people?"

"Fine, I talk _to_ you passionately."

She does have a point. But she's never this wired when she does.

"I'm more than okay with this."

She smiles wide and pulls me into her in a crushing kiss, I'm a little breathless when she pulls away, "Now onto my next surprise."

"You mean there's more?"

She nods, "I'm going to audit some classes."

"At NYU?"

She stops as if she wasn't expecting that to be my response, she shakes her head and thinks, "No, Columbia."

What.

"Why not NYU?"

She laughs like I should already know the answer, "Because I graduated from Columbia and they have a special auditing program for alumni."

I wiggle my hands out of her grasp and eye her, "I'm sure NYU does too."

"Well I didn't go to NYU for my masters, I went to Columbia."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Is this really an issue?"

I watch her closely for a few seconds, "Will you buy me things from the bookshop?"

"Of course."

It's always a good sign when there's no hesitation. And I need a new favorite sweatshirt since she commandeered my previous favorite sweatshirt.

"And can I surprise you some days for lunch?"

"Sure."

"Will you wear your glasses around my apartment more?"

"I guess?"

"You're going to Columbia! Yay!"

I clap softly and bare my teeth as I grin. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head before she nudges my knee expectantly, "So what's your news?"

I'm still on a high from picturing Quinn in the front of her classes, taking notes with her sexy glasses, being all studious and stuff.

"I fired my publicist! Yay!"

She doesn't look as excited but I was anticipating that, my _yay_ kind of dies off as she hops up from the couch. I knew she'd react like this, which is why I bought her a sandwich to butter her up.

"Are you out of your mind? Why would you do that?"

"So you're going to Columbia, huh? Pretty awesome, right?"

"Don't try to change the subject, this is serious."

It was a horrendous attempt at a diversion anyway.

"So you're allowed to Daddy Warbucks your money around and go to school again but I fire one little publicist and the world is ending?"

She stops and peers down at me, "Well have you hired a new one?"

"No."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have a plan."

"I don't like your plans."

Well that's just rude, this plan is bulletproof. Or fool proof. Whatever, she doesn't need to worry. I'm a master at planning.

* * *

><p>"Another round of tequila!" I shout to the waitress after Quinn is finished flagging her down.<p>

The music is loud and pumping through our ears, I can barely hear Quinn when she hisses next to me.

"_This_ is your plan?"

I look around the dimly lit bar and smile. Oh yeah. It was perfect! Even though we are somewhat secluded from the rest of the bar-goers, it's still too loud and crowded to talk coherently.

"Part one," I tell her and she shoots me a nervous glance before turning to the other two occupants of the table, Brittany and Santana.

"Don't you dare, Rachel."

Honestly? It was her own fault that she didn't find it suspicious when I suggested that the four of us go out for drinks. Santana still frightens me somewhat but I was about to make her an offer that she couldn't refuse.

I pretend I don't hear her and reach across the glass to get Santana's attention.

It's game time.

"Santana, come to the bathroom with me?"

She downs her shot and nods, I follow behind her and leave Brittany and Quinn to themselves. I know Brittany will be occupied for hours because the table doubles as a fish tank. That's right, Rachel planned ahead. I throw a wink back at Quinn before I link arms with Santana and follow her to the bathroom.

I may have had more tequila than I thought so it took a little longer than I expected to get my proposal out but she seemed to get the gist.

"Are you telling me that you're going to pay me to be a ruthless bitch?"

I wonder now if I should have used that as my opener.

"Pretty much."

"What else would I have to do?"

"Give people shit for talking bad about me, hold press releases, and deal with the media."

Naturally I'm leaving things out because quite honestly, I have no idea what the hell a publicist does anymore. My publicist cared more about the paychecks than my image.

She studies me in the mirror, "But I get to be a bitch?"

"You get to be a bitch to everyone but me and my small staff."

She tilts her head back and forth a bit as she decides, "I can live with that, but do I work from home or something?"

"I'll buy you an office here in the city," I rush out.

"You sound desperate."

"I am. I fired my publicist yesterday and I need someone right away, I need someone I can trust."

She chuckles as she continues to pat her lips with lip gloss, "You shouldn't trust me."

Don't I know it.

"Probably not but I know you'll be perfect for this. All you have to do is make me look good and do damage control when people find out about me and Quinn."

She throws her lip gloss back into her purse and turns to look at me, "You're pretty good at persuading."

I've always been good at persuading.

"I need someone that will be able to protect Quinn, I know you've been doing it since high school."

Not exactly _always_ protecting Quinn but she was the closest thing to a friend behind Mercedes. And Mercedes certainly wasn't going to be able to take time off from her job in Los Angeles to tend to me. I have to use the resources available to me. I'm just trying to talk her up so that she agrees to this. I need Quinn to realize that all my plans are amazing.

"Well that's half true."

At least she can admit it.

"So you'll do it?"

I know I'm hopeful but if this doesn't pan out, I'm screwed.

She shrugs dismissively and begins to walk out of the bathroom, "I'm drunk, I have to think about it."

I hurry to block her exit, "You get a brand new office in the city, and I'm paying you to be a bitch, what more do you need to think about? What do you do for a living anyway?"

"Telemarketing."

Wonderful, excellent phone etiquette. And she's had to be nice to people for so long that I know she's just dying to get her bitch on.

"Ew."

"You're right, I'm in," she holds her hand out for me to take and I end up engulfing her in a hug instead.

* * *

><p>"What did you do?"<p>

"Nothing," I answer innocently, glancing over my menu to keep myself occupied.

She has no proof of anything.

I'm surprised she's lasted this long without knowing a damn thing. When Santana and I got back from the bathroom we ordered one more round of drinks before Brittany announced that she was hungry. Quinn was more than happy to get out of the loud lounge and get to someplace secluded and quiet, I think she had her motives when she suggested the back table at a practically deserted diner. The bar crowds wouldn't be out for another two hours.

Quinn looks across the table at Santana, "San?"

"Don't worry about it," Santana replies, not bothering to look up from her game of tic-tac-toe with Brittany on the back of the diner placemat.

"Berry," Quinn turns to me, and even has the lady balls to lower the huge menu away from my face. She knows my anxiety about not being ready with my order when the waitress arrives. "What have you done?"

Oh, using the last name? She must mean business, I wish I wasn't so turned on by it.

"You win again," Santana smiles before placing a kiss to Brittany's temple while she draws another board, "And Quinn? Please don't speak to my client that way," Santana smirks and folds her arms across her chest.

It's classic Santana. I can't believe how much I've missed that simple gesture after all these years.

"Tell me you didn't."

"Quinniebaby, meet my new publicist."

I give her the cheesiest grin that I can manage and it's not too hard considering how many shots of tequila I've had and Quinn's eyes go wide. I'm sure it's because of the news that Miss Lopez will be taking the reins on all things publicity but there's a chance she's also a little shocked that I used one of the nicknames I've been dabbling with. I can't decide between Quinniebaby, Quincess, or Quincicle.

"You didn't," she reiterates.

"Oh, but we did," Santana answers smugly.

"Do you understand how _bad _of an idea this is?" She turns to me, "Rachel, sweetheart, this is a _terrible_ idea," Quinn's eyes are pleading but I think this is a terrific idea.

It's absolutely perfect. Santana is already the biggest bitch I know so she can handle her own. And she's our friend. Well, she's Quinn's friend but now she's my friend by default. And I'm paying her, which kind of means that I'm in charge of whether or not she has a job, it's not like she can cross me. And we'll get to see them more, I mean Connecticut isn't farther than the average commute, but I was running out of positive things for my list. I can't remember them all right now because tequila hates my memory but I know I have a nice poster board waiting at home on why this is a good idea. And it has glitter on it to make it pop, I know how much she enjoyed the last poster board I made. Quinn will understand soon enough.

"As Miss Berry's publicist, I demand to know why the _hell_ we are just finding out now that you two are dating."

Shit. I didn't even realize that I let it slip about our relationship.

"You guys are dating?" Brittany asks, "So didn't see that coming."

A silence falls over the table as the three of us stare at Brittany as she doodles on her placemat and happily sucks down her Vanilla milkshake. I guess we're all just a little perplexed by her lack of intuition. She was always oddly aware of the strangest things.

She looks up and smiles, "Just kidding. I read it on Jacob's blog that you two were canoodling in Ohio together," she beams as Santana leans in and kisses her temple again, "I tricked you."

"Jacob still has a blog?" Quinn asks.

"More importantly, you still follow it?"

"Watch it," Santana warns lightly. I raise my hands in surrender, "We've kind of known you've been dating for a while. I don't appreciate finding out from Berry, Q."

"We're not dating," Quinn responds automatically, it appears that she's still in _deny_ _everything_ mode, "Or canoodling," she adds as an afterthought.

I grab her hand under the table, "We're dating," I correct, "But the general public doesn't know yet, and that's why I hired you."

Santana leans back into the cushion of the booth and I can feel her legs stretch out in front of her until her heels are rested next to me on our side of the booth. She's getting comfortable. And when Santana gets comfortable, she gets wicked.

"Well if I'm going to do my job properly, I'm going to need to know every single detail. You guys gettin' freaky yet? Are you a top or a bottom? Is Quinn shy in bed? I bet Rachel _loves_ your tongue."

Quinn seethes, and her grip on my hand tightens protectively, "No. Fucking. Way."

Whoa.

Quinn turns to me with determined eyes, "Fire her right now."

"Down girl, I'm joking," Santana laughs, "Don't worry, both your dirty secret and career are safe with me."

Well when she puts it that way, maybe this isn't the greatest idea I've ever had.

* * *

><p>"Maybe this isn't the greatest idea I've ever had."<p>

I run my finger over the windowsill and take in the view that it provides. The city is so beautiful and calm when you're looking at it 15 stories above the ground and from behind a virtually bulletproof window pane. It's not the best view I've ever seen in my life, but it sure is better than the last place.

Quinn approaches me from behind and I can hear her softly laughing to herself. She's probably biting her tongue so that she doesn't tell me _I told you so_ for the fiftieth time.

"Well you can't fire her now, she's already too excited about this," she reminds me.

Oh trust me, I know how excited she is about this. I didn't think that she could even reach that level of excitement about something. She called me her savior. Her savior! I didn't realize how badly her life sucked in her profession of Telemarketing.

This is the fourth office space that we've looked at so far today and it seems to be the best option. Quinn takes a second and also looks out the window. She's thinking the same thing as I am in this moment, she hasn't immediately bashed the view so I think that we've finally found a decent frontrunner in the office search.

I realize now that she's misunderstood me.

"Oh no, I'm not talking about hiring Santana, I've come to the conclusion that it was a brilliant idea," I turn to her and beam, "I'm talking about picking out an office. I should have just let her do all the work."

She nods thoughtfully and I follow her eyes to find a delivery man unloading his truck to the small eatery on the corner across the street from the building we're in. She breaks her gaze and shakes her head, she totally just went somewhere else on me. She's been doing that a lot lately. The amount of money that I would pay to be inside of Quinn Fabray's brain at any given moment, it's probably a magical place.

"It's not that bad," she comments in my ear as she steps away from the window and tilts her head back to study the white molding lining the ceiling.

I turn to watch her go, "It took me months to find my loft."

It doesn't appear that she's even listening to me, she seems far more interested in the paint color of the wall than what I'm trying to convey to her. Which is simply that I'm picky and a brat. The first step is admittance. Maybe having a new therapist each week is doing some good.

"Bad market at the time?"

She's still not paying attention to me.

"No, I'm just spoiled and need to have the best of everything."

She stops and turns to me with an amused smile on her lips, "I don't know," she gestures around, "it's kind of fun."

She makes me feel like I'm being a poor sport when really I'm proud of myself that I've lasted _this _long. I get antsy very easily now that I'm used to not having to wait for things.

"What part of this is fun?"

She sucks on her teeth and it makes a funny noise, "I don't know, maybe the part where we both get to pick something out together?"

It sounds like she's about to pick a fight with me but her tone is the furthest thing from agitated or hurting. I can tell that she's actually enjoying this, and the only reason that I'm even on this little rendezvous is because Quinn suggested that we tag along for the hard part.

"Yeah but it's not for us," I remind her, as if she's forgotten that little minor detail.

Come to think of it…maybe she has forgotten that fact.

She turns away from me but I can still hear her mumblings, "Consider it practice."

Um.

"What?"

She shakes her head and now she's studying the flooring. Alright seriously, you don't moonlight as a carpenter so you really don't know what you're looking for while you survey the tiling.

"Q?"

"Nothing," she hums uneasily.

Sounds to me like she wants me to forget that she ever made the comment in the first place. That's not how Rachel Berry works, and I'm pretty sure she's already received and understood the memo. Naturally I'm going to press on, it's exactly what she _doesn't_ want me to do.

"As in the two of us picking out an apartment together?"

It's not a completely far off guess, there were really only a few options as to what she was referring to.

But she ignores me and squints her eyes towards the far wall. She's running out of distractions, there are four walls, a window that I'm standing near and naturally a floor and ceiling. She's now just pretending to be more interested in the sheetrock than me so that she can avoid my questioning. It only makes me want to know more.

"Can you look at me?"

She turns and heaves a sigh from her chest, "One day," I _know_ my eyebrow just sky rocketed, she holds up her hands in surrender, "Maybe…I don't know."

Well then. Wasn't exactly expecting myself to be right.

"I didn't realize."

She laughs it off like it wasn't a big deal, like she's not hurting at the fact that I was surprised by her response, "Forget I said anything."

"Yeah," I trail off, I'm so confused. "Okay."

Her smile is almost sympathetic, it's almost reminiscent of a time when I didn't have her, it almost makes me want to cry. It feels like there is something inside my chest, pounding and desperate to get out, why do I feel like this? I'm sad. Why am I so sad when this breathtakingly beautiful person is standing mere feet away from me?

She shrinks back into her body as she crosses her arms over her chest and continues to slowly walk around the space as if she's searching for anything that may be wrong with it.

I turn to Lauren who is looking anywhere but at the two of us. She _may_ have felt slightly uncomfortable with our conversation, my bad.

"What do you think?"

"You're asking me?" she points to her chest, "Why does my opinion matter?"

I see Quinn shoot her one of her amused smiles.

"Well, as my assistant you'll be spending plenty of time in this office."

"I don't know what gave me the impression that you'd finally attend meetings with your publicist. I thought that was the point of hiring Miss Lopez."

I ignore her blatant sarcasm, "Do you like it?"

She looks around. For Christ's sake, I'm sure Quinn would be _more _than happy to list out everything right and wrong with this place, she's been keeping a detailed track.

"I definitely think that it's the best that we've seen today, and might ever see. The location is great, and I think Miss Lopez will be satisfied with the size and view."

Such an informed answer, well done.

"Done," I announce, just glad to get this matter over with, "Have them fax you the papers for signing."

"You're sure?" Quinn asks from behind me.

"I like it," I tell her, "Do you?"

She nods.

"Good, it's settled," she shoots me a confused glance, I don't have time to stand around this office and talk about feelings, I want to get the hell out of this claustrophobic place, "I'll be in the car."

I walk out the door and practically break the elevator button as it lights up. It's not going to come fast enough and I know that Quinn is going to follow me to question my sudden shortness with her.

I shouldn't be acting this way, I shouldn't be snippy or give her an attitude, but I'm not exactly the world's best person when it comes to feelings and displaying my emotions. Not after getting crushed so many times in high school. Something just, I don't know, hit me. It wasn't necessarily a good feeling and it wasn't exactly bad, but it was something that I wasn't used to.

I hear her call my name as the elevator door slides shut and I close my eyes and hold onto the silver railing for dear life. I just need fresh air. I know I can make it.

I'm half expecting Quinn to be waiting for me in the lobby with a thin coat of sweat glistening her forehead and breathing heavily. I'm actually relieved when the only person that meets me in the lobby is the security guard at the front desk. I nod as I hurriedly make my way past him and throw on my sunglasses before getting to the sidewalk.

I feel significantly safer behind these tinted barricades.

Just breathe, Rachel. Breathe and you'll feel better. You'll figure out why you're acting weird, you'll give Quinn an explanation and everything can go back to normal.

If only it was that easy.

"Rach," Quinn calls to me, I don't mean to show how disappointed I am to hear her voice, it should be calming me, not making me flinch, "What's going on? What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I rush out, "I'm fine."

I think I just managed to do the opposite of convincing her.

"You don't look fine."

"I said that I was fine."

She steps back like I'm physically burning her. I feel guilty and it adds an overwhelming reaction to my already confusing feelings.

"Why are you being like this?"

Nothing agitates me more than when someone asks me why I'm being a certain way.

"Why am I being like this? You're unbelievable."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry," I sigh and run my fingers across my forehead.

"Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on with you right now? Everything was perfect all day and all of a sudden it was like you snapped, after I— oh god."

She seems to realize what it was that triggered my sudden coldness.

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine."

Of course I'm not fine.

I avoid looking at her but she can't tell my eyes aren't on her under my sunglasses. I focus on the delivery man still unloading baked goods from his truck at the pastry shop across the street. Five minutes ago, that sight was calming and something that Quinn and I shared together. Now, it's just a reminder of a memory that I messed up.

"I need to go," I move past her and towards the town car.

"Where are you going?"

I hold my hand up when I see Charles making a move to get out of the car to open my door, "I just need some time to myself."

She turns to fully face me as she stands in the middle of the sidewalk, "What does that mean?"

"Please just let me, let me just have some time."

I grip the handle and open the door to the car, "Rachel," it's almost a question. I turn to see what she has to say, it's the least I could do right now, "Are you- are you breaking up with me?"

"How could you even ask me that?"

I slam the door closed and walk towards her.

She shrinks back, obviously not expecting that reaction from me, "What do you expect me to think?"

"Think of me a little more highly than that."

She sighs, "You're right, I'm sorry."

"I promise I'll call you."

"You know that I love you."

"I know, Quinn."

* * *

><p>"Berry! I'm glad you're here, I need to talk to you."<p>

I haven't even been able to fully walk through the door and already she's being needy. Maybe this wasn't the best place to run off to.

"What is it?"

She ignores my irritation and closes the door once I'm out of the entryway.

"I can totally do this publicist thing."

When she says things like that, I seriously question whether or not Quinn was right when she said it was a terrible idea to hire her. No. All of my ideas work out and I refuse to ruin my perfect record over this. I'll go to the grave before I admit that one of my ideas is terrible.

"That's why I hired you."

"I know but I've been reading about it, like what I have to do, I think I can actually do this."

I see she's received the literature I sent to her house last week. I bought out the Entertainment section at _Barnes & Noble_ and forced my assistant to give me all her old college textbooks from her Communications classes. Wait until she has to go to the seminars.

"That's great."

I walk down the foyer like I've been to her house a thousand times. This is my first time. I can tell that Brittany called dibs on the decorating. White porcelain cats line the hallways on shelves but I'm too distracted to be creeped out. I know better than to make fun of them. I continue until I find their kitchen and sit on one of the high barstools in the middle of the room. I rest my forehead on the table as I wait for Santana to look up from the book she had in her hand and realize that I'd relocated.

"What's up your ass?"

"Nothing." I mumble into the wooden table.

She stands on the opposite side and leans against it with her elbows, "You and Quinn have your first fight?"

I shoot up and glare at her, "No!"

She laughs, "You sure?"

I'm distracted by the book that she lays on the table.

I don't think it's one of the books that I required her to read. Looks like she's taking some initiative. Thank god.

"Why? Did she say something to you? Did she tell you that we were fighting? Because we are _not_ fighting."

"Easy killer."

She pushes off the table and walks towards the fridge, "Do you want anything?" she gestures.

"We're not fighting."

She pulls the door open and grabs a water before turning around, "It's perfectly normal to have a fight with your—"

I hit the table with my fist, "We aren't fighting."

She twists off the cap and raises her hands in surrender as if she's entirely innocent and non-deserving of my outburst.

"Okay, you're not fighting. Why are you here?"

"Quinn and I, we had—"

She smirks and rests against the table again, "A fight?"

If she was within reaching distance than I would hit her.

We did _not _have a fight. Quinn and I don't fight. It wasn't even a disagreement. It was a—shit, I don't even know what it was.

"God damn it! No, I overreacted about something and it was stupid."

That's what it was, stupid. On my part.

"What was it?"

At least she refrained from using the word _fight_.

"We were looking for a stupid office for you, and she made a comment, about living together one day."

I need her to know that this is all her fault. If we hadn't been looking for her office than I wouldn't have overreacted for nothing and Quinn probably wouldn't be left alone somewhere near Midtown.

"So?"

"So? That's a big step!"

Does she not understand? Doesn't anyone understand without me having to voice it out loud?

"Why? Me and Brittany have been roommates since college."

Worst example she possibly could have thrown at me. They've been attached to the hip since Santana punched some boy for making fun of Brittany in 6th grade when she was disqualified from the spelling bee in the first round. She's always had trouble with silent letters.

"That's different."

"How is that different?"

"Because you've known Brittany since middle school."

"And I'm pretty sure you've known Quinn just as long."

She thinks she's just so quick. First of all, the closest Quinn and I ever got to being friends in middle school was the time she tripped Jacob Ben Israel in the hallway after he stole my Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper. She returned it to me, I thanked her, and she actually smiled at me. Then she told me she liked the rainbow-tailed unicorns on the binder and that she wished her parents would let her get one. I was speechless until I overheard her lunch table making fun of it later that day. She didn't defend the poor Trapper Keeper and I was silly to believe we had something in common.

I like to think that maybe if we hadn't been in eighth grade, we could have struck a friendship over it. It's nothing to dwell on but now that I'm thinking about it, it seems completely fitting that Quinn would like my choice of Trapper Keeper designs. She totally had a crush on me and I refuse to believe otherwise.

"Once again, that's different."

"Christ, how is _that_ different?"

"Because my relationship with Quinn growing up was far less friendly than your relationship with Brittany."

Like that wasn't front page news every week? She knew better than anyone else.

"I think you're making too big of a deal out of this."

I'd make a snarky comment if I didn't actually need her advice. Like it or not, Santana has been Quinn's friend since they attended the same summer camp and she knows her better than anyone. She knows about Quinn's first kiss, her first crush, her childhood secrets, her first time…well, everyone knows about _that_. And besides, Santana is oddly perceptive so I'm sure that she knows things about Quinn that not even _she_ knows.

As much as I like to believe that I know everything about Quinn, I don't know half as much as Santana does.

"How am I supposed to respond?"

She pauses for a second, probably not expecting me to sound so vulnerable, "I don't know, maybe you should be happy that she's even looking forward to taking that step with you."

I meet her eyes and she busies herself by taking another sip of water. Those words sound recycled.

"You talked to her, haven't you?"

She shrugs, "She called an hour ago."

Just fucking fantastic.

"Great."

"Look, I get that you've just reconnected or whatever and you just started dating but there's actually nothing to be afraid of."

I should be alarmed that I'm willingly discussing my relationship with her. She better not pull a fast one on me and alert the gossip blogs.

"That's not why I'm afraid," I finally admit.

"Why are you afraid?"

Her voice is soft and she's inquiring because she actually wants to know. Something is letting me believe that it's okay to tell her everything but I can't be careless with my feelings. I mean, if she's kept Brittany after all these years, she's not the spawn of Satan anymore, right?

"It's complicated."

"You _want_ to move in with her, don't you?"

Why is it so easy for people to read me?

I don't want to answer her question because the answer scares me.

I'll have to create a diversion.

"How did you react when Brittany started planning your future?"

"She's been doing it since high school," she shrugs.

"It didn't freak you out?"

"Actually…no. It's kind of fun to plan stuff like that with her."

I know what she means. I used to love going through the wedding scrapbook I started making after I watched _My Best Friend's Wedding_ for the first time. And I can't forget about how I would steal real estate magazines from the post office when I was 14 so I could scope out potential dream houses to purchase one day.

"You like her, don't you?"

"More than I thought I ever would."

It's not even a question.

"Then do yourself a favor and go back to her, she's a nervous wreck."

The thought of Quinn, by herself, most likely pacing with her hand running through her hair, has me panicked. I just completely left her without any hint of what was going on in my mind.

"Why?"

"Um hello? She's afraid that she scared you away."

"She hasn't."

"Then why the fuck are you here?"

I look around the kitchen and realize for the first time that I'm in Santana Lopez's house in the suburbs of Connecticut, "Why _am_ I here?"

I stand and shoulder my bag. Her house is really home-y but I can't help but start imagining things that I would change about it. Like, when I someday move away from the city and find a house on a col-de-sac with a park nearby. White rocking chairs on the wraparound porch while the 4th of July block party goes on into the night, people watching from a distance, judging the various cold pasta salads from earlier in the day, and pretending not to be exhausted from day drinking in order to watch the store bought firework display the neighbor puts on.

The only person I see when I look to the rocking chair next to me is Quinn Fabray with her thousand watt smile and teasing laughter.

"I don't know. Look you don't have to settle down and buy a house like Britt and I did, we're different. But you guys, you work. For whatever fucked up reason, you work."

I just want to see Quinn right now. I need to feel her arms protectively around me, I need to feel her breathing against my neck, and I need to feel her lips on mine.

"Thanks? I think."

"It's a compliment and I don't hand too many out, so be thrilled. She's actually pretty in love with you, if you told her you wanted to move in with her, she'd have movers at your apartment within the hour. If you wanted to marry her, she'd fly your ass to Vegas on the redeye. You want a kid? She'll get you a puppy until you find the perfect donor."

"Whoa, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

That all sounds amazing but I'm not about to start discussing that with Santana.

"Point is, she'd do anything to make you happy."

She's never been so sure of something in her life, it seems.

"I've gathered."

She continues, "And I know that you'd do the same for her."

"I would."

Once again, not even a hesitation.

"So then why the hell are you still standing there?"

Trust me, I've been dying to walk away and get back to Quinn.

"I thought it would be rude if I were to walk away while you were in the middle of your speech," I shrug innocently.

"Get out of here!"

She begins to move towards me and points to her front door.

"Okay, I'm going! Christ."

"You're welcome for the advice."

I reach the door and pull it open before slipping out into the early evening, "That's what I pay you for, wise ass."

* * *

><p>"Rach," she breathes out as she pulls the door open and I throw myself into her before I could even register that my feet were moving.<p>

I had to buzz up to her apartment so she knew I was coming but her relief as she opens the door settles my nerves. Honestly, I was expecting her to slam the door in my face once I got up here.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I whisper into the crook of her neck before pulling away to cup her cheeks gently, "I didn't mean to leave you on a sidewalk in the middle of Hell's Kitchen. I just needed to figure out what was going on with me."

"I understand."

Of course she does.

She reaches out behind me to push the door closed and leads me further into her living room.

"I freaked you out earlier with the whole apartment thing, didn't I?"

"No, it's not that."

"Are you sure? Because you seemed to freeze up on me after that."

"Nope, everything's fine."

I'm trying desperately to keep my voice calm and even so that she doesn't think that she did anything wrong. She did absolutely nothing wrong.

"Rocky…"

I step away from her, "Don't do that," I plead.

"Don't do this then," she gestures between us.

"I'm not doing anything."

She stares at me for a few long seconds and I can feel my defenses crumble to the ground effortlessly, "I freaked you out."

"Okay, I was freaked out."

She runs a hand through her bangs, "I knew it."

She looks tired and worn down. I hate that I've done this to her.

"Not for reasons that you think."

She looks up with the smallest amount of hope in her eyes, as if she's praying there's a reasonable explanation for all of this, "Then why?"

"I guess, I guess I was freaked out because I didn't realize how badly I wanted all of that."

"All of what?"

I shrug and begin to slowly walk around her living room, my eyes trained on the decorations on her wall to keep my composure, "I don't know, the apartment hunting, furniture shopping, decorating, moving in together, getting a puppy, having dinner parties, red-eyes to Vegas, watching movies on our couch, lazy Sundays, wraparound porches with white rocking chairs…"

"Wow."

I turn to look at her finally when I hear her soft response. She's zoned out, staring at the floor with wide eyes. Great. "Now I'm freaking you out."

Her eyes snap up and she shakes her head, "No, no. That all just sounds…really good, I guess."

I'm working up a speech in my mind that will retract everything I said but her admittance stops me. I turn to look at her more fully and she shows the smallest smile on her face as she watches me.

"Really?"

I can't help my own smile and I feel like a ridiculous fool.

"Really."

"But it's too soon," I reply, making excuses as to why we can't quite do all of that yet.

"So soon," she agrees.

It feels like she's just agreeing because she's distracted.

"I mean, we just started staying at each other's apartments, we can't move in together so soon."

She nods, "And buying an entire new place would be like skipping eight steps ahead."

She sits on the arm of the couch and I slowly walk over until I'm in front of her, "It would be so easy if we were just friends, I mean friends move in with each other all the time."

She reaches out for my hand, "I don't want to be just friends."

I can't believe how relieved I am to hear her say those words.

"We can't be just friends," I agree.

She's staring into my eyes and I don't feel the least bit uncomfortable by it, "So many steps ahead."

"It's a big commitment."

"So big."

"But I want it so bad."

"So bad," Quinn breathes out as she tugs my hand until I'm inches away from her face.

I feel her lips on mine and it's the sweetest release of anxiety and emotion.

"Maybe we can compromise?"

She smiles softly, "I love compromising."

"I found a Home Depot."

"Home Depots are nice."

"I got a key made."

"A key?"

I bite my lip and nod before reaching into my bag and pulling out the plastic bag that the key is currently held in, "To my place."

She watches intently as I struggle to get the bag open so I can place the key in her hand, "As in your apartment?"

"As in my apartment."

She turns the key around in her hand a few times, entirely amazed with the small shiny metal. She's looking at it as if she's never seen anything so beautiful, "You're giving me a key to your apartment?"

Her voice is shaky and she doesn't know how to react. It's one of the few times that I've seen her on the verge of tears. I'm praying they're happy tears.

"You're always there anyway," I shrug, as if it's all the reason in the world.

"A-are you sure?"

I smile wide, so maybe I have a few other reasons. "I rather love the idea of coming back to my place to find you reading on the couch, in your glasses."

She laughs and shakes her head, "I don't know what to say."

I tug her arm until she's standing in front of me, "Put the key on your key ring, and kiss me," she arches an eyebrow and I blush under her smirk, "You know, if you feel like it."

"Come here."

Her lips find mine again and I sigh into her mouth. After I left Santana's, I was all hopped up on adrenaline but I still had an hour car ride to sit through. I was trying to find the perfect compromise for Quinn and I, getting an extra key made the most sense. It wasn't too forward but it was a gesture that held just the right amount of commitment. The adrenaline wore off by the time I pulled up to Quinn's Chelsea apartment and I was working purely off hope and nervous jitters. It feels amazing to be done with this conversation and back in her arms, the temporary road block threw us off track for a bit but nothing feels better than solidifying everything with one of her kisses.

I pull back and smile shyly when she pecks my nose. She walks towards the table next to her door and picks up her keys out of the bowl she keeps there. I watch as she struggles to get the key on the ring and it's not my fault that a small squeal escapes my lips when she dangles the set of keys with their new addition in the air.

She grabs the folder of takeout menus off the table and holds them up. Of course I was starving, I'd been on missions all day, I wasn't thinking about eating. She sifts through the menus and pulls a few out. I take off my jacket and quietly walk up behind her and loop my arms over her stomach. I rest my cheek against the back of her shoulder, "I'm Rachel Berry, of course I've had reoccurring daydreams about what our place will look like one day. I guess I've never been with someone that has wanted the same thing, let alone you Quinn. It caught me off guard."

I feel her entire body shake as she chuckles, "Why do I get the feeling that it's what you think about during your therapy sessions?"

My hands slide under her shirt and scrape the skin of her abdomen as she picks out dinner for us, "Because it is, and it's scary how well you know me."

She hums softly, "So you feel better?"

I nod against her back, "Tomorrow are you free? I was thinking we could practice by picking out some furniture for Santana's office."

She turns around in my embrace and places a kiss on my forehead, "I have a meeting in the morning with Kurt, but after that, I'm all yours."

"That's what I like to hear, Fabray."

"And we'll get you a key to my apartment too?" she asks shyly, unsure if it will scare me off or not.

I'd love to have a key to her apartment so I don't have to wait outside in the cold anymore but I don't want her to think that it's something she has to do. "Only if you want to."

She wiggles her eyebrows playfully and her voice lowers seductively, "Oh, I definitely love the image of finding you walking around naked."

I hit her shoulders and back away, "At least my daydreams are rated PG!"

She eyes me curiously, "Are they though?"

"Not exactly."


End file.
